Whispers of a Nightmare
by Haunted Obsidian
Summary: Takes place after the Nina incident. Edward's hiding something that could destroy him. Serious issues and angst included.
1. The Banshee's Cry

**Title : Whispers of a Nightmare**

**Genre : Anime/Manga**

**Category : Full Metal Alchemist**

**Disclaimer : Nope, this one belongs to someone else as well. **

**Summary : Takes place after the incident with Nina. Something's wrong with Ed, and Al just can't quite figure out what it is. Serious situations and angst ensue.**

**Warnings : Angst, mild language, violence, and other issues that shall go unnamed for now. I don't want to give away too much of the plot just yet, now do I? ;)**

**Rating : T **

**Chapter 1 : The Banshee's Cry **

The room was quite; still. There was no movement in the sterile peace, except for that of a large suit of armor, but even that was just a shift here or there. The place reeked of ammonia and other various chemicals that were supposed to keep the area clean, though Al didn't care one way or the other, just as long as Ed was okay.

The suit of armor moved once more, growing tired of looking at the few military pictures that lined the white walls. He would have let out a sigh if there had been any air in his lungs, if he had lungs for that matter. The steel suit clanked lightly as he propped his right hand under his metal chin, his soul filled eyes returning to his brother once more.

Al's heart sank as he realized Edward looked no better than he had since he rushed him in there. He still looked so pale and fragile, even smaller than he usually did. His normally bright golden hair looked almost dull in the din of the room, his matching golden eyes hidden away in a deep state of sleep. He seemed so helpless, so...un-Edward.

_Brother...why? Why'd you do this to yourself? You know you weren't in this alone. I'm always here for you. Why?_

Al wanted to cry at that very moment, the pain welling up inside his soul. He felt awful; guilty in a way. He knew Ed had been keeping something from him, but this? He couldn't understand it. It just didn't make any sense. But then again, half the time anything Ed did never made any sense anyway, but this time his acts were unjustifiable.

_How could you keep this from me brother? How? After all this time...and you kept this to yourself for so long...Brother..._

He couldn't help it any longer as he started to shake, his steel shell clanking miserably. Even though there were no physical tears falling, his soul was a mess. Emotions hit him all at once; fear, anger, sadness. He couldn't contain them any more. It was just too much. He felt so lonely, so pathetic, even if he was twice the size of anyone he came in contact with. He felt so _small_...

He jumped as the door opened, a familiar figure stepping in. Al straightened up immediately, even standing at attention, clumsily knocking the chair out from underneath him. Thankful that there were no tears to wipe away, he still felt embarrassed at his sudden burst of emotion, hoping that Mustang hadn't heard any of it.

"Good afternoon, sir," Al acknowledged the Lieutenant Colonel, offering a slight bow at his entry.

Mustang nodded at Al's presence, his onyx eyes immediately traveling over to the twin-sized bed, his heart wrenching at the sight.

"Has his status changed?" Mustang questioned, stepping up to the side of the hospital bed, concern filling his hardened dark orbs.

"No, sir, he's still about the same as before," Al answered, doing his best to keep his voice steady. "There hasn't been much of a change...," he trailed off, his steel face seemingly falling downcast.

"I see," was Mustang's quiet reply. He knew it shouldn't be, but he could feel his heart continuing to sink with every second his eyes met Edward's still body. The boy just looked so tiny, smaller than what his thirteen years had brought him to be. He could feel the remnants of anger that he had tried to stifle before he came swirling back around his head, threatening to appear once more.

His eyes drifted to the two arms that were visible, just above the bleach cleaned hospital sheets. The automail arm was mostly intact, though he could see that a few pieces were still missing, leading him to his next set of questions.

"Have you made arrangements to get this fixed?" he inquired, gesturing towards the steel arm, his eyes wandering to his flesh one, taking note of how thin it was.

"Yes, sir. Winry, er, she's an automail engineer from Rizenbul, the one who helped construct Brother's arm, she should be here any day now," Al replied, still a bit weary of the Lieutenant Colonel's presence. Now he finally understood how Ed felt...

"And his leg too? I heard that it was pretty badly damaged as well," he went on, shifting the covers slightly to get a glimpse of the artificial limb. His eyes narrowed upon the sight, seeing wires and various pieces of broken metal, barely hanging on.

"Yes, it was, sir," Al responded, his voice quiet now, more reserved. He stood back away from the bed, his gloved hands folding in front of him. "The whole incident was pretty bad. As you've probably heard," he added, his voice growing fainter, more woeful.

"So I did," Mustang murmured, guilt tightly winding its way around his heart and squeezing it, so tightly he was sure it had skipped a beat. He opened his mouth to say something, but cut himself short. He gave Edward one last glance before looking up at Al. "I'll be back tomorrow. If his status changes, please contact me." And with that, he was out the door, back into the flooded hallways of the hospital.

Al stood there in silence for a moment before seating himself in the chair that he had picked up from the floor, placing it by his brother's side once more. Hesitantly, he reached for Edward's hand, tears surely slipping down his cheeks if they could. He ran his other hand through his brother's golden hair, a shriek escaping through his suit of armor as quite a few strands came out in between his fingers.

"Brother, what have you done...?" he whispered shakily, his steel suit clinking once again.

_Six months earlier..._

Al lifted his head up, glancing around the small inn room. It took him a moment to get out of his dream state, not fully conscious, yet not asleep either. He heard a noise from across the room, his eyes falling on the lone figure of his brother, standing near the window. He had a bed sheet draped around his shoulders, shivering from the cold that was seeping into the room. He went to say something when Edward's whisper of a voice cut through the silence.

"I'm sorry, Nina. I'm so sorry. I failed you just like I failed Mom and Al. I'm so sorry…" he trailed off, pulling the sheet tighter around himself, moonlit tears falling to the floor. "I'll make it better…I promise," he whispered, leaning his head against the window sill.

Silence entertained the room once more as Al continued to observe his older brother. Something had been off about him the minute they left Central and received their new mission. He'd been acting strangely, hardly speaking a word, let alone an entire sentence. And he hadn't been eating anything either, at least not to Al's knowledge, which was definitely out of the ordinary for his brother.

They'd been in Kiase for three days now, another bump in the road along the way to find the Philosopher's Stone, and they still didn't have any leads in the case they were assigned to. Apparently, there was someone there in the small town using Alchemy to commit murders, thus the need for the State to investigate. There were rumors though, of a red stone too, that is.

Edward accepted the case from Mustang without any lip, thus causing the Lieutenant Colonel to worry. He knew it wasn't like Ed to just take the case and go, especially silent at that, leading the Lieutenant Colonel to have a lengthy lecture with Al before their departure. Al tried to shake it off, explaining to Mustang that Ed was just being Ed and he just needed a little time to recover; but inside, he too felt worried.

Before either of them knew it, morning had come, though no sun entered through the curtains. They were both greeted with cackles of thunder and traces of lightning. A perfect wake up call.

"Brother, it's time to get up," Al whispered, shaking Ed slightly, the older alchemist balled up in the thin sheets, wrapped as tightly around him as possible. "Brother? Brother, wake up," Al tried again, shaking him a little harder, at last getting a response from Edward.

"What is it, Al?" he mumbled, sleep still rooted in his voice. He rolled on his side, pulling the sheets above his head in attempt to block out sunlight that wasn't even there.

"Brother, come on. You have to get up. Don't you remember where we're at? We're here to do work, and I think I might have figured out something," the childlike voice came from the sterling suit of armor.

"Al, you shouldn't worry about it. It _is _my case, remember? I'm the one with the leash around my neck," Edward stated, the sheets still hiding his muffled voice.

"No, brother, we're in this together, whether you like it or not," Al responded calmly, gently pulling the covers out of Ed's grasp. "It's time to get up. Now. Besides, you need to eat something. I'm sure they have something downstairs," he prodded, slowly pulling Ed up by the arm.

"Actually, I'm not very hungry, Al, so I think I'll just lay here a little while longer," he muttered, burying his head in a pillow. "You can go ahead without me," he murmured, trying his best to fall back asleep.

"And do what?" Al shot back, a bit sarcastically, gloved hands going to steel hips.

"Do what you always do…you know…whatever…"

"That's it." Before Edward knew it, he was being picked up and dropped on the floor, barely having enough time to catch his balance.

"Hey! What was that for?" the shout came from the blonde alchemist's mouth. "I just wanted five more minutes!"

"We have work to do, Brother, and like you said, it's _your _responsibility. And _you're _not getting anything done by just laying there," the younger brother returned somewhat hotly, giving Edward one last glance before heading for the door. "Oh, and don't forget, you were supposed to report to Colonel Mustang this morning and give him your findings so far. I'll be waiting downstairs."

Edward stood there, mouth hanging slightly open at his brother's minor outburst. For some strange reason, he could feel tears wrapping at his eyes, the chill of the room making him shiver thanks to being coverless. Silently, he went over to his suit case and pulled out his usual attire, black pants and his black over shirt. He quietly slipped them on, his stomach growling all the while. With a quiet sigh, he pulled on the over shirt as he went into the restroom.

He gave his teeth a quick brush and washed his face, then began the slow process of untangling his hair. He tried not to catch sight of himself, but the mirror was too much for him. He met his own eyes, slowly pulling the brush out of his hair, eyes narrowing slightly. Pictures flashed before his eyes faster than he could stop them, the hate that was implanted deep within his soul growing stronger with each passing second.

His hands gripped the counter, squeezing it so tightly that part of it crumbled in his automail hand. He could feel his teeth gritting automatically as his mother's face, then his brother's face, and then finally Nina's raced through his mind. His heart broke further with each passing frame.

"I'm so…sorry…," he whispered, his jaw clenching tightly. "I won't rest until I fix this. I won't…" The self-hatred that had made a home in the pit of his stomach grew, making its way through his system, flashing in his eyes. He could feel the tears welling up, sneakily presenting themselves behind his eyes, readying for an all out attack on his cheeks.

"No!" he exclaimed, slamming a fist down on the counter, it cracking underneath the force. He stared himself down, his breathing becoming more erratic and deeper. "No, I don't deserve the pleasure," he mumbled, gritting his teeth even tighter until he thought they might possibly break.

He gave himself one last glance, anger more than present in his eyes as well as his face; and headed for the door, another long day ahead of him.

He made his way downstairs, pulling on the long red coat that kept him covered. He searched the crowded room for Al, but the tall suit of armor was no where to be seen. A small pang of guilt etched its way across his heart, along with a little worry as well. Winding his way through the early morning crowd, he went outside, feeling even worse as he saw his brother standing in the rain. Putting on his cynical mask, he walked over to him, putting out his best brotherly tone.

"Al, what are you doing out here? You're gonna rust over if you're not careful," he chided playfully, his face falling at his brother's next sentence.

"Have you contacted Colonel Mustang?" Al asked without even turning to give so much as a glance at his smaller older brother.

A sigh followed his question. "No, not yet, Al. I mean, I don't really see the point of it. The man's probably got spies watching us anyway so what's the use? I mean, seriously…"

"Brother, you'd better call the Colonel before he does send someone out looking for us," Al returned, his tone softening slightly as he caught sight of Edward out the corner of his vision. "Go ahead, Brother. You know how he gets."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I'll be back in a minute," he muttered, giving in much more quickly than what Al had predicted. "If I'm not back, then he'll have burnt me to a crisp through the phone." And with that, he disappeared back inside the inn, mixing in with the thinning crowd.

With shaking fingers, he slowly dialed the number, not wanting to hear the voice that would be screaming at him from the other side of the line. It didn't take long for him to hear it.

"Lieutenant Colonel Mustang, future Furher speaking. How may I help you?" the deep voice cut through the silence, Edward twitching as soon as he heard it.

"It's me, sir," Edward replied, somewhat sheepishly. "Um, I was supposed-"

"You were supposed to report in yesterday, Full Metal. Or were you just too busy to remember?" He continued, not giving Edward time to answer. "You know the terms and conditions, and you know what you signed yourself up for. You do remember me telling you that I wanted you to check in each day, don't you? Or is that little world that you call reality consuming all your time?"

"No, _sir_, I was just a little busy is all," he replied, teeth gritting once more. Anger was slowly but surely becoming his constant acquaintance, and there were no signs of it finding a new home soon.

"Too busy to follow orders? Direct orders from your superior officer? I think we need to have another sit down when you come back, Full Metal, so I can explain to you what my expectations are," he continued on, knowing how deeply his words were crawling underneath the boy's skin.

"I don't think that's necessary, sir," he stated, the urge to scream at the man that was supposed to be his superior officer growing stronger and stronger, like a tidal wave about to strike land.

"Well, we'll find out, won't we?" he let out, the blonde alchemist already envisioning the smirk that was sliding across the Colonel's face. "Do you have anything to report?"

"Actually-"

"I can assume that's a no then. I'll be expecting another call tomorrow, Edward. And I expect information as well."

A dial tone almost smacked Edward in the face, his features contorted in to a scowl. He angrily slammed the phone down, not caring about the strange looks he received from the few people that were around him. Once again, he'd been treated like an irresponsible little kid, and once again, he'd been lectured about his job and the military.

"The next time I talk to him…I swear I'm gonna turn him into-"

"Are you ready to go, Brother?" Al cut him off, turning around to face him. His half-cheerful mood changed as he saw the look on his brother's face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's nothing, Al. Let's get going," he muttered, shuffling into the light rain, the thunder and lightning lightening up a bit, though it still matched his downcast mood.

"Have you eaten anything yet?" Al asked as they got a little ways away from the inn, trying to put a little life into his brother's hopeless ones.

"No, Al, remember? I told you I wasn't hungry before," Edward grumbled sulkily, trying to shrug off the innocent question. But Al wasn't taking no for an answer.

"But Brother, you haven't eaten anything for awhile now. How could you not be hungry? It's been over three days. That's not good…"

"I've eaten," Edward lied, letting his hair fall securely in his face as he continued to walk a little further ahead of his brother, curiosity getting the better of the younger one.

"No, you haven't. I haven't left your side since we've been here, and you haven't sat down to eat anything since then. Why aren't you eating? It's not because of what happened back at Central…is it?" Al questioned, his tone growing fainter.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Al, that I'm not hungry!" the thirteen year old alchemist spat, turning to face his little brother who wasn't able to stop in time, knocking Edward down.

"Sorry, Brother," came Al's soft response as he tried to lift him from the ground, only to have the smaller one refuse, rainwater staining his knees.

"Don't worry about it," Edward mumbled, continuing on. Trying his best to hide the redness that had flushed his cheeks, he acted as though nothing had happened, even though his walking was a bit unsteady. "What was it that you were going to say earlier?" he asked, slowly changing the subject from his eating habits to their assignment.

"Well, I was thinking about it, and the killer manages to somehow transmute the victim's heart to metal, right?"

"Right."

"Well, that's probably something you'd be able to do too, right? I mean, not that you'd want to, but that's your specialty."

"And your point is?" Edward queried casually, releasing a light yawn.

"My point is, Brother, that what if the murderer has automail as well? Wouldn't it be a lot easier to find him if that's the case?" Al asked, hoping he was right.

"Although that's a good possibility, he could also be a highly skilled alchemist. I can't believe Mustang actually sent us out here," the Full Metal Alchemist mumbled, the scowl reappearing on his face. "If the case was so complicated then maybe he should have dragged his lazy a-"

"Brother, don't forget your own words. You're a dog of the military now, remember?"

"Gee, thanks for the pick me up, Al. I really appreciate it," the words slipped through the side of his mouth.

"Brother…" Al's voice trailed off, his metal head hanging. "I was just saying…" Al looked up, hearing the sound of his brother trip again. "Brother…Brother?" the terrified voice melted through the metal. "Is that…?"

Edward was speechless, his golden eyes drifting to the horrific sight in front of him. Blood littered the ground before him, his boots skirting on the edge of the crimson puddle. Bile automatically found its way up his throat and onto the ground, he unable to contain it. He doubled over, not wanting to look at the thing that lay a few feet from him.

"Are they…?"

"Yeah, Al," he choked out, body trembling. "They're dead."

**Author's note : My second attempt at Full Metal fan fiction. Sorry if it sucked, but the anime is so good, it's hard to make a fan fiction that even comes close! Just to explain a few things real quick :**

**1. This takes place in between the time Edward became an official State Alchemist and the time he and Al went to Liore. So that leaves three years to play with if I'm correct.**

**2. I don't know if anyone sees Ed's problem just yet, but the angst and brotherly conduct will continue to get worse throughout the story, if anyone reads it, that is. **

**I think that's it. Feel free to leave me a review and let me know what you think. It's always nice to know if anyone liked it or not, or even suggestions on how I can improve. Thanks! Oh, and before I forget, you gotta check out "Nothing I Won't Give" by Vic Mignogna. It's quite an inspiration for this story, to be honest. Later!**


	2. Cherry Red Skies

**Title : Whispers of a Nightmare**

**Genre : Anime/Manga**

**Category : Full Metal Alchemist**

**Disclaimer : Nope, this one belongs to someone else as well. **

**Summary : Takes place after the incident with Nina. Something's wrong with Ed, and Al just can't quite figure out what it is. Serious situations and angst ensue.**

**Warnings : Angst, mild language, violence, and other issues that shall go unnamed for now. I don't want to give away too much of the plot just yet, now do I? ;)**

**Rating : T **

**Chapter 2 : Cherry Red Skies**

It was still raining the next day, lightning splitting the sky in two, thunder echoing through his ears; as well as the voice that met him on the other end of the line.

"You've been there how many days now, and another victim shows up?" Roy Mustang's voice cut through the silent air, the blonde alchemist not even bothering to retort. "I didn't send you there to have fun, Full Metal. I sent you there to do a job, _your _job! Or did you forget again? Do I have to come out there and remind you?"

The one-sided phone conversation started to fade into the background of Edward's mind, his attention span quietly faltering with each passing minute. His eyes were unfocused, his gaze unsettled. He'd seen plenty of blood before, let alone the blood that poured from his own body; but when it was someone else's…

"Do you hear me, Full Metal? You may be the youngest State Alchemist in the history of the State, but your job is still the same as the rest of us! When I send you out to work on an assignment, I expect you to get it done! You may have another objective, but your primary objective should be the one that you have with the State!"

Pictures of his mother--of what was supposed to be his mother, flashed through his mind; the horrific sight making him want to vomit. The body that he saw that day didn't exactly look like hers; but it wasn't a pretty sight either.

_How could someone do that to a human? To anything? _

Even though the blood had been cleaned up, he could still see the crimson substance as clear as day, staining the knees of his pants. Though black they may be, the material was darker, sticky. He shuddered at the thought that someone's blood was now trying to soak through his skin, but he couldn't do anything about it for the simple fact that his ear was seemingly attached to the phone, Mustang's tone deepening as he continued his you're-not-good-enough lecture, one he'd heard too many times before. And to think, he'd only been a dog of the military for a little more than a month.

"Edward! You'd better be listening to me! Edward!" he shouted, his voice continuing to raise, the usual smirk wiped from his features. "You want to play that game, huh? Well, that can be arranged. I think Hughes would--"

"I don't need you to send anyone out here to baby-sit me, Mustang!" Edward shot back, cursing himself for the outburst for he knew that's exactly what the Colonel wanted to hear.

"Is that right?" the question stung the thirteen year old in the ear, the smirk fitting rightfully into its usual place once more.

"Yes, that's right! I don't need a damned babysitter and you know it! We're working on the case, but they normally don't get solved over night, do they?" Edward exclaimed, the hand that was holding the phone trembling violently next to him. His jaw clenched tightly, his brow narrowing at the man across the line.

"Apparently not by you," the quick remark came back, the onyx eyes gleaming beneath the jet black bangs that hung in front of them.

"I told you--"

"Don't let this one get away, Edward. I'm counting on you, and you'd better be getting something done because if you keep playing around, I _will _send Hughes out there to assist--"

The Colonel's voice was quickly eradicated from the blonde alchemist's hearing as the boy slammed the phone down, not caring to hear any more from his superior officer. He knew he'd hear it later, but at the moment, he honestly didn't care. He had too many things to do and not enough time to do them in. Catching a murderer being first on his list though.

He squinted his eyes as he walked away from the desk, though not because of any bright sunlight invading his sight. He'd had a headache for the past few days, and it was only growing worse as the days went on. He reached a hand up to the side of his head, but quickly withdrew it as Al came into view. The last thing he needed was for his little brother to see him like that, no need to worry him any further than what the kid had to put up with in the first place.

"What's wrong, Brother?" Al questioned, turning to face his older, smaller brother.

"Oh, you know, the usual. It's my fault someone else got killed, I could've prevented it had I not played around with my time. The usual guilt trip," he stated casually in his ever so cynical quip. "You know how the Colonel is," he muttered, gritting his teeth at the pain staking its way through his head.

"Brother, are you sure you're alright? You look pale…" Al studied the red and black clad alchemist, worry scorching his soul. "Maybe you need to eat," he offered, looking down at the rather annoyed looking blonde.

"I'm fine, Al," he muttered, crossing his arms. "Let's go back up to our room and regroup. Go over all the information we've got, and then go from there," he stated, heading back towards the stairs only to stumble a bit, catching his balance on the banister.

"Brother!" Al gasped, rushing over to Edward. "Are you alright?" he asked curiously, placing a gloved hand on his brother's tense shoulder.

"I'm fine, Al, just got a small headache. That's all," he replied, cautiously making his way up the stairs. "It'll go away in no time. Stupid Mustang," he murmured, his hand gripping the wooden stairwell tightly, his jaw clenching in reflex. He stared straight ahead, his eyes focused on the stairs in front of him, though double vision was slowly snaking its way through his sight. He could feel dizziness creeping upon his back, and as much as he tried to ignore it, it continued in a steady stream, trickling through his system. His breathing was growing increasingly erratic, his heart palpitating louder and louder through his ears. One step, then two…

"Brother!" the frightened shriek came from the suit of armor, automatically catching the blonde in his arms of steel. "What's wrong? Are you okay?" he flooded the older one with questions, worry and concern lacing his tone.

"I'm fine…" he mumbled, his grip on the banister loosening as he fell back into his little brother's arms, any light that was in his line of sight vanishing as a veil of darkness trapped his vision, confiscating his consciousness.

&&&&&&&&

Darkness surrounded him, thick and uninviting. He tried to open his eyes, but it was as though there was an invisible weight upon his eyelids, preventing him from seeing what was just a few yards away from his grasp.

He tried to take in air, but there too seemed to be something on his chest as well; the breath that he longed for avoiding his lungs. Every time he tried to take in some of the sweet breeze that was swirling around his body, he wheezed, his lungs seemingly temporarily out of order.

His hands were trapped at his sides, gripping the cotton sheets he had been laid upon. He didn't know what was going on, but whatever it was, he didn't like it. At all.

He tried to force his brother's name out between his glued lips, but no matter how hard he tried, his mouth stayed clamped shut, only quiet grunts managing to escape. He could feel tears welling up behind his closed lids, slowly but surely sliding down his cheeks and onto the uncomfortable mattress that he rested upon.

His heart was beating faster and faster, pounding in his ears, and no matter what he did, it wouldn't slow down--no, it couldn't slow down due to his struggling, it just wouldn't. More muffled cries came from the small part between his lips, the feeling of being confined electrocuting his veins. Even with his automail arm, he couldn't seem to find the strength to get out of the bind he was in, making the fear that was slowly rising in his chest present itself even more.

The blonde alchemist tried to kick, but his legs were no different than the rest of him. It was as though he was paralyzed, and there was nothing he could do to escape the imprisonment he had somehow inadvertently gotten himself into. It was useless, he just couldn't move, making the urge to scream even worse.

The thought of Al being in the same predicament as him made his heart ring throughout his ears even louder, the inability to help his brother grating on his senses. It made him struggle harder, the want to get free rise in his chest, the want to get out of his temporary imprisonment make his kicks stronger and his thrashes faster; but the more he struggled, the worse it got.

The more he tried to take in air, the more his head spun, leaving him dizzy and nauseas. He could feel more tears break free of their crystalline prison and litter his distraught face, making him feel like a pathetic child; fearful.

_No! _a voice screamed through his head. He recognized it at once, it being his conscience or something along those lines. _Are you that weak? Can't even get yourself out of a little bind such as this? Mustang was right about you…_

The second voice scared him all the more, leaving him confused, rendering him still for the moment. He stopped fighting, another voice echoing throughout his ears, only this one seemed to be coming from beyond his thoughts, from somewhere in the room.

"Edward…Edward…open your eyes Edward…go on now," it cooed, sending an irrevocable chill down his spine, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. "It's alright, everything's going to be just fine. Go ahead…open your eyes."

It sounded oddly familiar, and unimaginably soothing; but there was just something about it that frightened him. It wasn't normal. It sounded so perfect, but as with all things, there was a flaw in it that he just couldn't pin point. But it kept calling to him.

"Edward…don't be afraid…I won't hurt you…I'd never hurt you…" it rang through his ears, an odd sensation swarming through his body. "That's it…"

Reluctantly, he gave into it's calling. It was as though a piece of the invisible force that was holding him down simply vanished, granting him his sight once more. The curtains slowly went up, a faint light catching his swimming vision. His golden orbs wondered about the room until a faded silhouette pealed its self away from the light, revealing a pale face with warm brown eyes and auburn colored hair flowing about it.

His heart skipped a beat, the naiveté of his youth coloring his thoughts. Was it? Could it be? _Her_?

"Mom…" a hopeful voice whispered, pain latching onto the word and sticking with it. "Mom?" the thirteen year old questioned again, tears brimming at his eyes. It felt as though he couldn't even control his breathing anymore, his heart beating faster than it ever had in his short life. The illusion of all his dreams was standing in front of him, looking amazingly beautiful and eerily ethereal.

"Edward…it's been so long, hasn't sweetheart?" she asked, her tone as light as a feather, the words casually rolling off her tongue. "I've missed you so much," she added, seemingly gliding across the room towards him, a more vivid light bringing out more of her faded features.

"Mom…no…you're not her…you're not her at all," he mumbled, woe filling his voice, his heart immediately sinking to the ground and shattering upon impact. He could feel his body start to shake once more beneath him, getting worse than it was before. His heart gave a resounding thump in his chest before beating irregular again, sending his breathing haywire.

"Shhh," she soothed, gingerly caressing his automail arm. "You don't have to be so afraid son," she said, offering a not-quite-right smile. The closer she got to him, the easier it was to see. When his harsh gaze finally reached her eyes, he realized what was off about her; there was no life in her eyes. She was dead, soulless.

"Don't touch me!" he screamed, his eyes watering again, though never taking them off her. "You're not my mother, you stupid hag! I know you're not! My mother's dead…" his voice trailed off, cracking at the last word.

"Now, son, why would you say such an awful thing? I'm right here. I told you I'd never leave your side," she stated, pain searing through his arm as she continued to run her hand up and down the cool metal, a hurt yelp parting his lips.

"Stop! Stop it! I don't know who the hell you think you are, but you're not her! You hear me?" he cried out, hissing as she brought her hand up to his cheek, pain emanating from his jaw, tears slipping out his tear ducts faster than he could refuse their escape. "Leave me alone! Go away! Wait, where's Al? What did you do with Al you monster?" he continued, trying to sit up though he was still paralyzed by the same invisible force.

"Edward, this is no way to treat your mother," she chided in a sickly playful way, a wicked smile creeping across her lips. She stared down at him with those lifeless eyes, burning into his, pain becoming even more of a presence. It cascaded through his limbs, feeling almost as horrible as when he had his automail replaced. It was as though she was turning the knobs and they were broken, permanently stuck in the agony position.

"Where's Al?" he questioned once more, his eyes burning with fear and pain, sadness leaking down his cheeks. "What have you done with him?" he repeated, gritting his teeth in spite of himself. He screamed once more as she just stood there and stared at him, smile still implanted on her pale features. "Where is he?"

"Your brother," she paused, slowly placing her hands around the blonde's throat, "is just fine." She stopped, the grin transforming into a scowl, making the resemblance between her and his mother disappear completely. "How could you, Edward? Why did you do this?" she shrieked, an air of hatred burning in her eyes. "How could you do this to me? Turn me into such a horrible creature? Why? What did I ever do to you? I loved you, took care of you, and this is how I get repaid?" Her voice was shrill in his ears, causing more pain to invade his body. His heart stopped at what he saw next.

Slowly, the face before him became a void, a black, empty, lifeless void. Then the rest of the body joined it, hollowing out before him. Panic rose in his chest as it morphed into the creature that he had tried to bring to life just a few years before, sending horrific chills throughout his body.

"Do you see now, Edward?" The voice was distorted; deep. It echoed through his ears, his jaw clenching tight at the horrible sound. "This is what you made of me. This is what you turned me into. How could you, Edward? How could you do this to me?" it cried out, oozing towards his confined body.

He continued to squirm, a loud scream escaping his throat. He still couldn't move, the paralysis becoming more than temporary. He looked over at the thing and froze; a thought rendering him helpless.

Perhaps, it _was _right. It was _his _decision, his and his alone, Al was just supposed to be a spectator. _He _was the one who instigated it, suggested-no, stated that they were going to bring her back. Because that's what he wanted. But he wanted it too badly. Too badly for his own good. Perhaps, yes, perhaps, he deserved this punishment. After all, it was his fault, wasn't it?

His breath caught in his chest as he watched it creep upon him, swaying at his side. He closed his eyes, preparing for whatever it was going to do to him. There was no stopping it now. It was over and done with. "I'm sorry, Al," he whispered, giving in to the fear that ate at him, consumed him.

It felt like a thousand needles penetrated his skin, a scream resonating through the room. This was it, he was going to die. Just like that. It was over. Now he wouldn't be able to help Al get his body back, guilt rushing through him. He'd let his little brother down again, made a promise he couldn't keep.

"Brother!" the sudden impact of the voice jolted him from the pain that was surging through his body. "Brother!" Al's voice cried out again, forcing a little more sense into the blonde alchemist.

"Al?" he yelled back, struggling to keep his eyes closed and his mind focused on his brother's voice. "Al?" he repeated, more pain entering his body.

"Brother? Brother? It's okay," Al's voice reassured him from somewhere far away. "It's alright, Brother."

"Al?" he asked once more, his voice as quiet as a whisper. The pain stopped as fast as it had come, his body still trembling. He could feel his limbs once again, prompting him to open his tear-filled eyes, his brother's voice at arm's length. The darkness was gone, as was the horrible creature that pretended to portray his mother. He could feel Al's gloved hands on his shoulders and slowly looked up to see his little brother looking down at him, the face of the soul-filled suit of armor seemingly wearing a concerned look. "Al," his voice came out again, shaky. Without another thought, he wrapped his arms around the steel suit's neck, panic still wracking his veins.

"It's okay, Brother. It was just a bad dream. That's all. Remember, you used to do the same for me…when we were little…" the younger one's voice trailed off, leaving a tinge of nostalgia in the air.

The pain in his little brother's voice made him feel all the worse now. Al couldn't even dream anymore. Couldn't touch, couldn't taste, couldn't cry. He was suck in that lousy suit of armor, and it was all his fault.

"I'm sorry, Al. I'm so sorry," he whispered through grit teeth, anger for himself raging in his soul. "I'm so sorry," he repeated, huge tears rolling down his flushed cheeks. His body continued to disobey him, he unable to stop shaking. He squeezed Al tighter, knowing that his little brother couldn't truly feel the warmth from his embrace.

"Brother, it's alright. Calm down, it's not the end of the world. You just had a nightmare, that's all. Whatever it is--"

"I saw her, Al. I saw what I did to her, what she became," he cut the boy off, anger slicing his tone, his jaw clenching immediately.

"Mom?" the younger one queried, his gloved hands still sitting securely on Edward's still trembling shoulders. "You…saw Mom?" he questioned once more, a hint of pain tinting his tone.

"Yes," the small alchemist answered honestly, his blonde hair completely hiding his face from sight. "And…and…" he stuttered, the images playing before him once more, the creature haunting his vision. "She hates me," he muttered before breaking into tears once more, sobs pouring from his quivering lips.

"Brother…" Al was struck speechless for a moment, still trying to take everything in that his brother was saying. "Brother, Mom doesn't hate you. Whatever that was…in your dream, that wasn't her. She loves you, wherever she's at. That thing was just trying to get the better of you. It wasn't her. That's the most important thing to remember," he stated, gazing down at the crestfallen State alchemist. "It was just a dream."

Upon hearing Al's voice and sense of reasoning, Edward stopped shaking, taking into account everything his younger brother had said. But as much as he liked to believe it, the creature and its words still lurked at the back of his mind, haunting him aplenty. But he couldn't keep crying, he knew how it made Al feel.

_How could you have been so selfish? How could you let him see you like that? So weak and pathetic? You've got to be strong for him. He's your little brother and he needs you, and if he can't depend on you, who can he depend on? _

With a harsh swipe, he rid the tears that had polluted his features, taking in a deep breath and trying to straighten up as best he could. He had to be strong, he just had to be! Swallowing his pride yet keeping the notion hidden, he slowly slid off the bed, knowing what he had to do.

"Brother? Are you okay? Where are you going?" Al inquired, surprise streaking the metal face, worry laced throughout his voice.

"We still have a case to solve, don't we?" he asked, picking up his comb and running it through his tangled mess of hair. He quickly braided it and slipped on his red jacket and white gloves, not realizing Al staring at him all the while.

"You sure you don't need to rest more, Brother? You nearly fell-"

"Come on, Al," he started with a fake smile, just the corners of his mouth creasing were enough to cause him pain, though he hid it as best he could. "Let's go."

"Well, there's just one thing," Al stated hesitantly, his voice quietly wavering, nervousness enchanting his tone as he placed his gloved hands behind his back.

"And what's that?" Edward questioned suspiciously, raising a curious eyebrow.

"Well, you really scared me earlier so I called Colonel Mustang," he explained, unable to look at the expression of anger surging over his older brother's face, a tinge of red blushing his cheeks.

"And?" Edward asked through gritted teeth, his eyebrows narrowing, knowing he wouldn't like what was coming.

"And…"

"And what, Al?" he asked once more, taking a few more steps towards his younger and frightened brother.

"He's on his way."

**Author's note : Well, how was it? Hopefully, Edward wasn't too OOC. He's such a passionate character and extremely emotional so I hope I captured him well enough. Thank you so much for your reviews by the way! Sorry I didn't have time to respond to them but I will this time. Let me know how I'm doing, please! Your reviews give me better insight and plenty of inspiration as well. Tell me if I suck or if you like it! Later!**


	3. The Consequence of a Mistake

**Title : Whispers of a Nightmare**

**Genre : Anime/Manga**

**Category : Full Metal Alchemist**

**Disclaimer : Nope, this one belongs to someone else as well. **

**Summary : Takes place after the incident with Nina. Something's wrong with Ed, and Al just can't quite figure out what it is. Serious situations and angst ensue.**

**Warnings : Angst, mild language, violence, and other issues that shall go unnamed for now. I don't want to give away too much of the plot just yet, now do I? ;)**

**Rating : T **

**Chapter 3 : The Consequence of a Mistake**

"What!" Edward exclaimed, eyes dancing wildly with anger and fright. "You did what? Why, Al? I told you I was alright! There was no need to call…_him_!" he added, gesturing towards who knew where with a pointed index finger, red continuing to paint his cheeks.

"But Brother-"

"How could you do such a thing? It's not as if I don't look incompetent enough…and now Colonel Bas-"

"What was I supposed to do, Brother?" Al asked innocently, hurt in his tone. "You haven't eaten anything since we've been here, and then you passed out on me! What was I supposed to do?" he questioned again, this time a bit louder than before.

"You told him _that_? Why?" the blonde alchemist shot back, completely rearranging his brother's words around in his head. "How many times do I have to tell you, Al, that I'm fine! F-I-N-E, fine!" he shouted, a hint of annoyance in his voice. His golden eyes burned with anger, though they were watery at the same time. He could feel his heart drop to his feet, knowing that the worst was yet to come. He hated it when they fought. But sometimes, it just couldn't be helped, no matter how strong their bond was.

"Fine? You call passing out in my arms _fine_?" Al shot back, hints of anger haunting his tone. "And having a nightmare about Mom? You call that _fine_ too? Apparently, Brother, our definition of the word _fine _is totally different," he quipped, staring down at the older blonde.

"Al…," Edward mumbled, on the verge of tears. He was trying so hard to hide the pain…so hard.

"Oh, and Brother, when I get my body back," he paused, turning back before he exited the room. "_If _I get my body back, I'll make sure to pass out in _your _arms and see how _you _like it." He gave Edward one last glance before disappearing behind the door.

"Al!" Edward called out, his hands clenched into small fists at his sides, shaking with anger. "Al, that's not fair!" he shouted, his voice cracking on the last word. "You know that's not fair," he muttered to himself, a rogue tear tumbling down his distraught cheek.

He wanted to break down right then and there; scream and shout out to the whole world that it was his fault that his brother's body was lost somewhere in the depths of time and that he would be the one responsible to get it back. But he knew he could scream all he wanted, and no one would actually _hear _him.

Flashes of the dream passed through his mind, stirring the fire that was already bubbling inside. His mother's eyes…those cold, lifeless eyes… He knew they would be the force that drove him to get it all back. That and the fact that his brother was in more pain than he could ever imagine. If only he could tell Al that…

More of the saltine substance started to trickle down his cheeks, and once again, he swatted it away as though it were a fly buzzing in his ear. Even if the day would come when they finally succeeded in their quest, he'd always have it drilled in his system that it was his fault to begin with. His and his alone.

He cut his thoughts short, not knowing how long he had been standing there. And if what Al said was true, Mustang would be there any minute now, waiting to chew him up and spit him out, and then come back for more. He was in no mood to hear it; but then again, was he ever?

With a hushed sigh, he exited the room, making his way to the train station. The sky had decided to stop with its own tears, though the color it cast was still a dull grey, reflecting in those golden eyes. The clouds were rumbling in the distance, signaling that the heavens might not be over their pain yet.

He let his bangs fall in his face as he made his way through the semi-crowded streets, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Reluctantly, he entered the train station, just in time to see the locomotive pull up to the platform. His body stiffened as he made his way towards the small group that had come off, anger searing his brow as two familiar blue uniforms came into view.

One was that of First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye; looking as stern and trigger ready as ever. The other of course being Lieutenant Colonel Mustang himself, his usual smug mug touched by anger, his eyebrows also in decline. He muttered something just out of Edward's hearing, and whatever it was, it was sure to be a smart remark, regardless if the boy could hear it or not.

Though he was not one of formal traditions, the young State Alchemist gave his superiors their proper salute, resenting the military and being one of it's dogs all the while. He gave a half-hearted bow in their direction, not caring if his nose touched the floor or not. He opened his mouth to say something to his usual companion, but then the realization hit him that the steel suit of armor was not by his side, rendering him temporarily speechless. He kept his mouth shut instead.

He waited for the outburst. The oncoming threats and putdowns and short jokes, but none befell his ears. He blinked once, then looked up, realizing both of his superiors had walked straight past him. "Hey!" he called out, running up behind them, his red jacket flowing behind him.

"Oh, sorry, didn't see you standing there, Full Metal," Mustang stated, then added, "Must've missed you." Hints of the Flame Alchemist's trademark smirk were there, just not enough to put on a worthy show.

Edward wanted to give a retort to this, something with the words _hate_, _bastard, _and_ Mustang _in it; quite possibly in that order, or even a _Who you callin' so short that a needle in a hay stack's easier to find than you?_; but the anger he felt was towards himself and not his superior, not completely anyways. So he let it go and decided to grit his teeth instead.

"You might as well go back to Central because I've got this completely under control," Edward attempted a fake air of confidence, trying ever so snidely to wipe it in the Colonel's face, though the attempt failed.

"That's all nice and fine, Edward, but from the sound of things, you don't," Mustang shot back, his voice hovering on the edge of anger, a shout preparing to leave his throat.

"Sir, not here," Hawkeye warned in a hushed tone, giving the Colonel a sideways glance as she readjusted her suitcase.

With evident reluctance, the Colonel kept quiet the entire way to the inn, keeping Edward within his sight at all times.

As soon as they had reached the entrance to their rooms, the Colonel nodded at his second in command and she disappeared into an adjoining room. Without even giving Edward so much as a warning, he pushed the blonde alchemist into his own room, the air of tension already skyrocketing between the two.

Edward landed with a light thump on the hard-mattress bed, his eyes widening momentarily behind his bangs. He could feel his body go taut, preparing for the avalanche that was about to crush him. Any second now…

"You'd better tell me what's going on right now, Edward, or I promise you this will not be a polite conversation," Mustang began, turning to face the somewhat shaken Full Metal. "I sent you out here for a reason; to get a job done and solve a case. Now I understand that this might be one of your first, but your previous signs of intelligence and skill led me to believe that you could handle this. Why is it that you can't?" he questioned, standing in front of the already hot-tempered boy, a curious look in his onyx eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Colonel," he spat, a scowl taking over his youthful features. "I've only been here a week--"

"And that's plenty of time for you to have taken care of this!" Mustang interjected, folding his arms across his chest. "I don't understand Full Metal. Are you too young to handle the responsibilities that your job entitles? Was I wrong to assign you such a case? Perhaps I should have made you stay in Central and sent a more _qualified _alchemist in your place. Someone with more experience…" his voice trailed off, his eyes filling with a mysterious air.

Edward sat there, motionless, taking it all in. His eyes were flavored with an anger so deep, that instead of releasing it as he normally did, he bottled it up, keeping a tight lid on things. In the back of his mind, a voice kept repeating, _You deserve this, you know you do._ And he listened to it, basking in its mocking tone, irritated by its truth. He kept silent, impatiently waiting for the Colonel to continue.

"So you've got nothing to say to that? Nothing at all?" He continued without waiting for a response, studying the boy carefully with his soul-piercing orbs. "Your brother tells me that you passed out, and that you haven't been eating. Care to fill me in?" he inquired, raising a curious eyebrow, his hands clasped behind his blue uniform.

"I just had a little headache. That's all," he talked through a clenched jaw, his eyes narrowing with each word. This was not territory that he wanted to be in, nor a boundary he wanted to cross, but the Colonel was known for his substantial interrogations if the person wasn't consumed by flames by the time he was done with them.

"A little headache caused you to fall unconscious for eight hours? Edward, may I remind you that I've been serving in the military for more than half your life span, and have more than enough common sense to know that's a lie. Now, shall I hear the truth, or will you be leaving on the next train to Central?" he asked casually, his jet black eyes dancing with delight. He leaned against the adjacent dresser, crossing his arms once more.

"What do you want me to say?" he shouted, finally giving into the heat that was nearly disintegrating his system, standing to his feet. "I got a little dizzy, and I fell. Is that my fault? Maybe it's the air around here," he mumbled, a scowl whipping across his face as he too folded his arms, knowing that was the lamest excuse he could have ever come up with.

"How long's it been?" Mustang questioned, still casually positioned against the wooden décor.

"How long's it been since what?" Edward shot back, face distorted in confusion, his golden eyes lit with fire.

"Since you've eaten anything. A week?" he offered, giving the kid a once over. Edward didn't look too much different than the last time he'd seen him. Maybe a little pale, and the addition of dark circles under his eyes, and that cherubic look he had to his face was kind of disappearing…

"I don't know what you're talking about," he grumbled, his jaw clenched in irritation. He could feel his chest tightening at the coolness of Mustang's words. He knew he was only seconds away from either screaming his head off or running out the door. Either one was sounding more and more appealing as the seconds drifted on.

"You don't seem to know much these days, do you?" he chided, a devious smile creeping across the corners of his mouth.

That did it. That was it.

"What do you care for anyways?" the exclamation parted the blonde's lips, his hair filtering about his reddening face. "Excuse me for not solving the case as soon as I got here! And excuse me for having a little headache! I only had it because of you!" he screamed, uncalled for tears spilling onto his cheeks. He immediately took off out of the room, only to bump into Hawkeye who had been waiting patiently at the door.

"Edward?" her voice questioned faintly through his ears as he brushed away from her and ran down the hall, tears falling at his feet. His red jacket flew behind him as he hurriedly rushed down the wooden staircase at out of the main entrance, right into a gust of wind and a downpour of rain.

He didn't care where he went, as long as it was away from that damned Mustang. But then a second thought occurred to him the moment he stepped foot into the rousing storm; _Al!_ His heart began to go into overdrive as his legs carried him through the near blinding rain, the only thing on his mind finding his brother.

_How could I have been so stupid? I was so caught up with the Colonel that I didn't think to check on Al! What is wrong with me?_

His mind raced with the possibilities of where his brother could be, though he was ultimately drawing no conclusions. He didn't know the town at all, and hardly remembered the places they had been during their short stay. As the minutes wasted by, hopelessness slowly started to confiscate his weary soul. He was getting no where and fast.

_Where are you, Al? Where could you have gone?_

He was getting soaked, the rain splattering him without showing any mercy whatsoever. His already fitting clothes were becoming even more so and then some, sticking to his small body like a second skin. His jacket had become heavy and uncomfortable, weighing him down and slowing his speed significantly. And even though he'd had eight hours of sleep--if you could call it that, he still felt sluggish and worn down, the small burst of adrenaline he'd acquired slipping away through his fingertips.

His golden hair was a dull blonde in the shadow of the grey sky, matted to his face and slightly obscuring his vision at the same time. He could feel himself slowing down, his body getting the better of him. His footsteps started to drag and finally he felt himself coming to a complete stop, coming to rest underneath the awning of a nearby shop.

He shakily leaned against the brick wall, only to find his legs unwilling to support him anymore. Slowly, he slid down it, giving into the weakness that invaded his bloodstream. He carefully pulled his knees up to his chin, the chill of the air finally hitting him. He shivered, a pained look creeping across his features.

He felt more than helpless, he felt insignificant as well. Woe filled his golden eyes, tears creeping in behind it. He shook his head with a wistful smile on his lips, burying his face in his knees. For the first time in his life, he felt small; pathetic. He could feel his lips quiver as he tried to fight another round of unwanted tears, but they won again, his body tensing as they fell.

Stray drops of rain made their welcome under the awning with the thanks of more gusts of wind, he almost laughing at the irony of it. He couldn't even hide from the rain, so how the hell could he possibly hide from himself?

He shook the thought away, letting it drown in the back of his mind, hoping it would eventually disappear, as with all his other thoughts of worry. But he knew that aspiration would also come to pass as fruitless as well, there wasn't even a point of trying.

He was just about to let himself drown in all his other sorrows as a sound caught his ear. His head jerked up as he heard footsteps splashing through the puddles of rain that had littered the ground. His first thought was that Mustang had chased after him, possibly given him a head start to give him some time to think, clear his head; but these were not the steady, cool footsteps that Mustang would have given off. They were more erratic and jumbled, as though the person didn't know where he or she were going and were just trying to get away from something.

His body tensed even more as they drew nearer, his heart nearly burrowing a hole straight out of his pounding chest. His eyes widened as the person finally came into view, the look on their face frightening him even more.

It was a man, and the terrified expression on his face spoke volumes, resonating chills down the State Alchemist's spine. He looked to be around the age of forty, though at the moment, possibly even older, his face scrunched up in a look of utter horror and confusion. The stranger's black hair lay flat on his forehead, sweat more than likely mingling with the rain that was coming down on him. His clothes, looking like that of a normal villager's were torn in a few spots, blood leaking out of the holes. But his eyes, his eyes were what made Edward freeze. They were the lightest shade of blue he'd ever seen, indicating that more than likely the man was blind.

The thirteen year old was stuck, glued to the ground and unable to move anything; paralyzed just as he was in the nightmare. The rain continued to pour down on him, rolling down his cheeks and dripping to the ground, creating small ripples in the puddle below. His golden eyes could do nothing more than watch the horrific scene play out before him, somewhere in the depths of his mind already knowing the outcome, though he could do nothing to effect it.

The man's steps became even more scattered until he finally tripped, water splashing up around him, seemingly consuming his thin frame. He hit the ground hard, a weak groan escaping his quivering lips. He was trying to push himself up, though his strength was waning. That's when Edward heard the next set of footsteps.

They were soft at first, tickling his eardrums with their eerie rhythm. He felt his small body tighten even more as they drew closer, his attention slowly drifting back to the man that lay only feet from him. He wanted to reach out, to help the man up--something, but he was still paralyzed, remnants of the nightmare coming back to haunt him. The only thing he could manage were a few quiet sobs, everything else was lost on him.

In the next moment, it was as though everything became completely and utterly silent; he was deaf to the world. He watched in his state of paralysis as the second stranger came into view, a dark shadow looming over him, evil emanating off of it. It moved slowly but precisely, a long black cloak consuming the person that wore it, making Edward unable to tell who it was or what they looked like; but at the moment, he wasn't exactly concentrating on that aspect either.

The person seemingly moved in slow motion, though they caught up with the fallen villager rather quickly. Though the rain continued to fall, it were as though it too had stopped in mid-air, frozen in the moment of time.

A low moan escaped Edward's throat, though the cloaked figure didn't appear to hear it, apparently consumed by the crime they were about to commit. Or they chose to ignore it, either way, the State Alchemist was the most frightened he'd been since that day…

Steadily, an arm reached out from behind the dark cloak, an arm made of steal; of metal. It's image reflected in Edward's golden eyes, he unable to process the picture that was set before him. He watched in horror as the hand casually made its way to the writhing man's chest, right to the exact spot where his heart was, buried under muscle and skin.

"No, please no," the man begged, his voice hoarse, apparently from the previous struggle he had escaped from. "Please, Kania, I won't tell anyone…I won't…I---" His pleas were cut off with a blood-curdling scream that filled the cold air as his heart was replaced with metal. All the blood that had been flowing through the man's veins came to a standstill, his eyes nearly popping out as an aftereffect. His face was frozen in terror, still looking up at the cloaked figure before him.

The color seemingly drained from his skin the moment his soul had passed, becoming as pale as the moonlight that was trying so desperately to break through the thick clouds that hung overhead.

A dormant cry lay in Edward's throat, his mouth open at the sight in front of him. Small whirls of mist departed through his lips as his breath became visible at the steady dropping temperatures. His golden eyes widened even more as the cloaked figure turned his way, a hood still hiding its features.

Tears tumbled down his cheeks as he realized he still couldn't move, his body literally feeling frozen from the cold. A few misplaced hairs swam into his vision as the murderer stared him down, Edward only being able to make out the emerald green eyes that lay in the darkness under the hood. He watched them glimmer by an invisible light, his breath catching in his chest as it slowly moved towards him, the eerie melody of its steps creeping upon him.

He tried to force his unresponsive body to move, to do something; but it still mocked him, paralyzed by fear. He could feel something rising in his throat, unsure of what it was. He felt another tear run ragged down his cheek, quite possibly the last one to escape the confines of his eyes. It didn't take long for the short life that he did have to flash before his eyes.

He saw the metallic hand coming straight for his chest, and yet there was nothing he could do about it but sit there like a good boy and observe. Thoughts raced through his mind faster than he could catch.

_What about Al…the past…look what you've done…make things right…gotta make things right…Mom…I'm so sorry…Please don't hate me…Nina…I'm sorry I couldn't save you…Brother!…I'm supposed to get you your body back…Al…I'm so sorry…Please forgive me…_

He was trembling as he felt the hand make it to his chest. A cold so deep, so chilled, ran throughout his entire body, another violent shiver wracking his limbs. It felt as though he was buried in the heart of a blizzard with no hope of survival. He could hear his heart beating in his ears, louder than it ever had before.

_Al…_

_Tha-thump._

_Please forgive me…_

_Tha-thump._

_I love you…_

_Tha…._

Darkness slowly coveted his vision as the cold eased over his body.

**Author's note : Ahh, I have no idea why this chapter seemed so hard to write. I had it all planned out in my head, then for some reason, I just kept getting distracted. Oh, well, I'm pretty sure it turned out the way I wanted. Hopefully, you guys agree. Once again, thank you for your kind reviews. I think they're the reason this chapter came out so fast, fast for me anyway. ; ) Alright, please let me know if it was good, bad, totally sucked or whatever. I look forward to hearing from you all once again! Oh, and one small side note : some things may not be explained at first and might not make any sense whatsoever at the moment, but in chapters to come. Hopefully, that last sentence made sense. Later! ; )**


	4. Deterioration of a Soul

**Title : Whispers of a Nightmare**

**Genre : Anime/Manga**

**Category : Full Metal Alchemist**

**Disclaimer : Nope, this one belongs to someone else as well. **

**Summary : Takes place after the incident with Nina. Something's wrong with Ed, and Al just can't quite figure out what it is. Serious situations and angst ensue.**

**Warnings : Angst, mild language, violence, and other issues that shall go unnamed for now. I don't want to give away too much of the plot just yet, now do I? ;)**

**Rating : T **

**Chapter 4 : Deterioration of a Soul**

A warm sensation flooded through his veins, though he could still feel himself shivering. _What's going on?_ He could feel the fingertips on his left hand tingling, suggesting that perhaps, the end hadn't come as he thought it had. He took a deep breath, realizing that the sound of the rain had stopped, and everything around him was silent. _Am I still alive?_

Almost reluctantly, he opened his eyes to find that not only had he not died and gone to whatever creation met him on the other side; but he was also out of the rain, and out of that stranger's grasp. The memory sent his hand flying to his chest, just to double check that his heart was still pumping blood through his veins. Luckily, it was.

A sigh of relief parted his lips as he finally looked around and took in his surroundings. He was back at the inn in the room he shared with Al, only it seemed that no one else was around. _How'd I get here? _he wondered, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He looked down to find that he was covered up with two, possibly three blankets, taking note of the uncontrollable shivering that was still wracking his body.

He didn't have his normal attire on, causing him to immediately panic at the thought of someone else dressing him besides himself. The only other person to do that was his mother, and that was a long, long time ago. Confusion made his brow scrunch, his brain trying to figure out just who's pajamas he was wearing. He knew he didn't own any, especially not ones that looked so formal, even if they were sleeping attire.

The navy blue and white pinstripes still weren't giving him any indication of who their owner was until he saw that the sleeves and the pants legs were rolled up, and quite a bit at that. His lips curled in disgust. _Mustang's…that damned Mustang's!_

After further consideration, he decided that he in fact did not want to wear anything that his superior officer deemed wearable, leading him to search for his own clothes, something that he didn't feel so small in. But as soon as he stood up, he found himself falling right back down to the bed, a bout of dizziness taking over his head. Nausea managed to strike his stomach at the same time, though there was nothing in his stomach to throw up.

He shivered once more as he felt sweat slowly run down his forehead, surely a sign that something was not right. _Maybe…it was all just a dream. Yeah, some stupid dream, like the other nightmare. But…what about the pajamas?_ His first feeling of hope crashed as he realized that there would be no other reason why he was in the Colonel's sleepwear, thus leading him to want to discard the clothes even more.

Closing his eyes tight, he pushed himself up once more, dizziness still creeping in from behind his ear lobs and resonating through his skull; but he was determined to get to the bottom of things, no matter what the case was. He took one step and his leg trembled so badly that it sent him straight to the hardwood floor, his chin connecting ever so politely with it.

"Dammit," he mumbled, an irony taste invading his mouth. Sure enough, he'd managed to bite his tongue, a trickle of blood oozing through his teeth. Rolling his eyes, he pushed himself up, swaying a bit as he stood. Clenching his jaw, he took a few more steps, only to have the same effect as before, though he did make it a few more feet. But anger got the better of him. "Come on! I can't be this weak!" he managed to yell at himself, exasperation clearly evident in his tone.

He could feel tears of frustration well up in his eyes, making him push even harder. He suddenly felt like an infant, even more degrading than being weak. Trying his best to ignore the voices that were haunting his thoughts, he got back up again, this time steadying himself on the small oak dresser that sat a few feet from the bed.

He didn't even notice he was soaked in sweat until he came across the mirror, his eyes widening at the sight. He blinked once, staring at the person who looked back at him. His skin was pale, the light tan that he had from years of being out in the sun, gone from his complexion. And underneath his eyes sat dark circles, apparently from his restless state. Beads of sweat littered his forehead and slowly slid down his cheeks which were flushed. He'd never seen his eyes so dull before. Just looking into them almost frightened him for some reason.

Not wanting to see what he looked like anymore, he turned away from the reflective piece of glass and began the seemingly long trek to the door, his legs wobbling underneath of him. He almost had his hand on the knob when the door opened, sending him sprawling forward in to the arms of the Colonel.

"I see someone found their way out of bed," Mustang scolded smugly, his eyes gleaming with that familiar cockiness that Edward had come to see.

"Get your hands off of…" He'd almost managed to finish his sentence before the urge to vomit arose once more. He turned his head to the side, nothing more than a bit of water burning his throat as it came up, then hit the floor. The dizziness was returning worse than ever, and he could nothing for Mustang still had his hands locked securely around his sides.

"You're ill. You need to rest," he stated, though it sounded more like a command than anything else. It didn't take much for him to pick the boy up and take him back over to the bed, the blonde State alchemist too weak to resist. Though his stubbornness decided to rear its ugly head and he stayed sitting up, much to the Colonel's dismay.

"Where's Al?" he muttered as loudly as he could, his head bowed, all of his hair coming completely untied and hanging in his face. He shivered again, feeling worse by the second.

"I'm right here, Brother," a small voice came from behind Mustang, the steel suit of armor obvious, standing all the taller, though.

"Al, are you okay?" Edward questioned, his head shooting up to meet his brother's metal soul-filled eyes. He immediately regretted the movement which sent his head spinning even worse, a wince escaping his lips.

"I'm fine, Brother; but I can't say the same for you." He paused, wondering whether or not he should continue on. "What is wrong with you?" he exclaimed, Edward's head jerking up again at the outburst. "Going out there and nearly getting yourself killed? If the Colonel wouldn't have went looking for you, you would've wound up dead! What were you thinking, Brother?" Al's voice was loaded with half-hearted anger, though worry weaved itself through his undertone.

"I'm sorry, Al," Edward muttered, rubbing the back of his sore neck, his vision still dancing double around him. "I just…I just wanted to solve the case I guess. After all, it is _my _responsibility," he whispered, a bit bitterly, solely for Mustang's presence.

"We're in this together, Brother! How many times do I have to say it before you'll listen to me? Even though you're the one in the military, we both have the same goal. Why did you try to do this by yourself?" Al burst out, voicing his hurt this time.

"That may be true, Al, but you disappeared on me so there wasn't exactly much I could do anyways, now was there?" the small blonde shot back, instantly regretting his words for the second time that day. Or was it the next already?

"That's not the point--"

"Not the point? I don't see--"

"Enough!" Mustang's raised tone shot through the air, so fast that it silenced the two arguing brothers right up. "Al, could you excuse us for a minute?"

"Yes, sir," Al murmured, giving his older brother one last glance before exiting the room and closing the door quietly behind him.

Silence enveloped the room, crossing back and forth between the two, weaving an imperfect path along the way. Rain decided to fall once again, infecting the silence momentarily as it lightly tapped against the window.

"What were you thinking, Full Metal?" Mustang finally spoke, his onyx eyes landing on Edward's pale face, his tone sharp; even. He stared at him through his jet black bangs, his gaze never faltering. Anger hinted at the corners of his eyebrows, though at the moment, he was trying to conceal it.

"I thought we went over this already," Edward mumbled, clearly annoyed at the Colonel's choice of words, his eyes focused on the floor. He tried to hide the involuntary shiver that wracked his bones, but it broke through his barrier, slightly amusing Mustang.

"I don't care how many times we go over something, Edward. If you don't listen or understand the circumstances you're in, then I'll keep repeating it until you do. This is not a game, Full Metal--"

"I know that!" the thirteen year old exclaimed, cutting his superior officer off, sweat tricking down his cheek and falling to the floor. "I'm not some stupid little child that doesn't know what I'm doing!" he added, standing to his feet once more, automatically regretting it as his stomach felt like it was bottoming out. He swayed slightly, but stood his ground.

"Then quit acting like it!" Mustang shot back, his voice raising in volume. The seriousness that his eyes cast off was enough to silence the younger State alchemist, though not for long. "You don't realize how close you were to being killed two days ago, Edward," he stated in a more serious tone, his eyes never disconnecting with the blonde's line of sight.

"You should have just let him do it," he muttered under his breath, though the Colonel heard every word of it, a sudden ferocity flooding through his veins.

Mustang stopped himself before he went into an all out verbal attack. That's not what the boy needed to hear at the moment, though it was tempting…A strange feeling hit him, making him see something that he hadn't quite caught onto before. There was something in the boy's eyes that hurt him to look at, though he'd never admit it, not even to himself. But there was that expression of lost hope; of wanting to give up. It could have just been side effects of the cold the kid was suffering from, but as he took a longer look, he made up his mind that that wasn't true.

He remembered when he had that same look in his eyes; and he too recalled those feelings of hopelessness and being lost. He remembered when he held that barrel up to his lips, but he just couldn't do it…

"So you just want to give up that easily? Let your brother remain in that state forever, knowing that you could have done something about it, but chose not to because you were too selfish? Maybe you're not as intelligent as I first thought…," he let his voice trail off, hoping for some reaction out of the boy. It didn't take long, though guarded as it was.

"I don't want to give up!" Edward returned, a confused expression set upon his flushed features. "It's just…he was so close…," he whispered, his voice shaking as tears met his eyes. "I thought for sure…" He sat down on the bed, placing his head in his hands, embarrassed at his childish actions. He didn't want to cry, but he couldn't stop it. He had been so scared, so sure that it was over with. He'd never felt so bad in his life, just the thought of leaving Al alone…

"I…I was frozen," he continued, his automail hand still hiding his tear-stained cheeks. "I tried…I tried so hard, but I just couldn't," he sobbed, his voice on the edge of a breakdown. "I just sat there and watched an innocent man die! He looked right at me! He asked for help…and I just let him die… I let him die! I watched him get killed! I saw it…

It was awful…"

More tears rained on his cheeks, his shoulders rising and falling quickly as they fell down. He never felt so ashamed, so disgustingly unclean in his life, not even when he was covered in his own blood. He shivered again, though the over-sized pajamas were sticking to his skin, the navy blue turning to midnight due to the amount of sweat that was soaking through them.

Mustang studied him quietly, watching the twelve year old fall apart at the seams right before his eyes. He knew no child should go through what this one had; but then again, the kid had signed his childhood away over to the military the moment the ink hit the page, thus rendering him vulnerable to whatever lay ahead. Even if it involved another's death. Everything was eventual; and there was always a first time for everything as well, even if it was none too pleasant.

"You need to rest," the Colonel finally spoke, the tension in the air lessening not one bit. "It's imperative that you're back on the case as soon as possible, and in order for that to happen, you need to rid yourself of whatever has infected your body. I'll be back in the morning to check on you," he concluded, making his way to the door.

"So that's it? Is that what I'm supposed to do? Act as though nothing happened? Like I was never there?" he questioned, unsure of whether it was more to himself or Mustang. He continued as he heard the door open. "You may be able to do that, but I can't." This time it was a direct hit at the Colonel. "I'll never forget the look on that man's face, even if he couldn't see what was happening to him, he still knew. And he knew I was there too." He was quiet for a moment as he waited for some type of response, though the only thing he heard was the door closing, making him feel even lower.

"Dammit!" the curse befell his lips, his fist connecting with the small wooden nightstand. His eyes watered immediately after the impact, pain shooting through his fingertips. He let out a quiet breath, though nothing could suppress the anger that he felt towards himself. He'd let an innocent man die, knowingly. He cringed at the thought, images replaying in his head. "No, I won't have it," he mumbled angrily as he clenched his hand into a fist, ignoring how shaky it was. He could feel a cough tickling the back of his throat, but he ignored that as well.

He had been assigned a job, and he had to do it, sick or not. Determination snaked through his veins, appearing in his golden eyes, a tiny gleam running through the dullness that had made its home in them.

_That man was calling out to me…He knew I was there…I could've saved him…I could've…_

He cut himself short, the man's last words echoing through his head.

"Wait a minute, he knew who the killer was," he stated to himself, his voice squeaking unexpectedly, though he hardly noticed. "He begged them…" He paused, letting the name come to mind. "Kania, that's it!" he let out, his eyes widening at the resurfaced clue. "All I have to do now is find out who Kania is. That shouldn't be too hard to do, after all, it's not that popular of a name, is it?"

He'd made up his mind by the time he stood up again, though as soon as he reached his feet, a coughing fit pounded his susceptible lungs, sending him stumbling. He caught himself on the wall, impatiently waiting for it to pass. It took a minute, but he finally made it over to his small suitcase, his small body still shuddering due to the stress it was being put under.

He picked up his neatly folded clothes, praying somewhere in the back of his mind that it was Al who had dressed him and not the Colonel. He was so upset before that he forgot to ask…

As he stood back up, the same black and blue spots that had distorted his vision before, came back, causing him to sway. He blinked a few times, but they were still there, his head starting to swim. Faintly, he could hear his stomach growl, knowing that it had been at least a week since he'd last eaten, but he didn't care. He wasn't hungry and he was resolute on staying that way, regardless of the effects it had on him.

It took a minute, but finally his sight was restored, though a faded ache crept into his skull. He shook it off, slowly making his way back over to the bed.

Carefully, he pulled the drenched pajamas off and began to change into his usual attire; the slick black pants going on a little more loosely than normal. He buckled the belt gently, sliding it over another notch. As soon as he slipped on his black undershirt, the door opened, the silhouette of his brother appearing.

"Brother," Al began, then cut himself off as he realized Edward was no longer in his bed clothes. "Brother, where are you going?" he questioned, his voice leaning towards shrill.

"Shh!" the young State alchemist hushed, his brow narrowing as he gestured for his little brother to come in. Once the door was safely shut again, he eased his tone, though it was still hurried. "I've got a lead; I know the person's name. I remembered when I was going through everything in my head," he explained, as though the incident were of casual nature. "When everything was happening…the victim called out their name. Kania. He begged them not to do it…but he knew them. Maybe the killer only targets people that are close to them," he wandered aloud, hiding every ounce of the pain that he truly felt.

"Well, it's not much, but at least it's something to go. I'm sure if we ask around long enough, we'll be sure to come up with something," Al agreed, a gloved hand scratching his metal chin.

"And you were right, Al, they did have automail, just like you said. I think that's plenty to go on. It shouldn't be too hard, right?" he added, trying to force a grin on his strained features, the memory of the automail hand coming towards his chest playing over and over again in the back of his mind.

Alphonse was silent for a moment, something apparently on his mind. It didn't take long for Edward to notice, knowing a question was coming.

"Just say it, Al. What's wrong?" he asked with a raised eyebrow as he slipped on his boots, his hands still shaking.

"You're sick, are you sure you should be going out now? I mean, I know it's important that the killer gets caught, but I don't want you to get any worse, Brother. Are you sure you're going to be alright?" he questioned, worry heavy laden in his tone.

"Al, you've got nothing to worry about. We played lots of times outside when we were sick, remember? And we're still here now, right? It's just a little cold, that's all. Nothing to be concerned about." As soon as he finished his sentence, another coughing fit choked his lungs, annoyance marking his face.

"You were saying?" Al hit back, a smirk like Mustang's crossing his face if it could.

"Let's go," Edward mumbled, making his way to the rain splattered window, red jacket tumbling behind.

"The Colonel's not gonna like this…" Al muttered as he reluctantly followed his older brother, all the while knowing he wanted to catch the killer just as much as Ed did.

"Have I ever cared before?" the blonde alchemist quipped back, a cheeky smile parting his lips.

"Nope," was Al's simple reply before following his older brother out of the window and down to the ground below. Somehow, he just knew it was going to be a long day.

**Author's note : Sorry for the cliff! From the previous chapter anyway. No, I couldn't kill Edward. I just don't have the heart. But the suspense added with angst equals eye candy to me! Jk…Forgive me, caffeine truly has an adverse effect on me. Well, since I can't remember who I replied back to, I'll thank all of you right now. Each and every single review was and is appreciated and mean loads to me. So thanks goes to ChibiCorsair, Ominous-Shadow, Aemilia Rose, Zion, me, Jchrys, Birth of Venus, Lyemi, and agent000. Thank you so much for your support, and once again, I hope this chapter will suffice. I know there's not too much action yet, but it's coming! ; ) And I need to apologize and state a correction: In previous chapters, I wrote that Edward is thirteen, when in actuality, he would've been twelve at the time. I realized this after watching a few episodes of the show, so from now on, unless noted otherwise, he's twelve. An insignificant fact, yes, but I'm picky. :) Well, let me know how I did. All feedback is welcome!**


	5. As My Heart Gently Weeps

**Title : Whispers of a Nightmare**

**Genre : Anime/Manga**

**Category : Full Metal Alchemist**

**Disclaimer : Nope, this one belongs to someone else as well. **

**Summary : Takes place after the incident with Nina. Something's wrong with Ed, and Al just can't quite figure out what it is. Serious situations and angst ensue.**

**Warnings : Angst, mild language, violence, and other issues that shall go unnamed for now. I don't want to give away too much of the plot just yet, now do I? ;)**

**Rating : T **

**Chapter : As My Heart Gently Weeps**

A light drizzle danced before his eyes, inwardly knowing that he shouldn't be out in it, but he was anyway. And if Mustang were to discover him out, he'd never hear the end of it. He shook the thought away, gazing up to the bleak horizon that lay out before him. The grey clouds seemed to go on forever, the rain a permanent river of tears from the heavens, seemingly never ending. It truly did reflect the way he felt inside.

He was trying so hard to hide his pain, to hide everything. He didn't want Al seeing him so weak, especially when he was supposed to be the strong one. Even though they'd only walked a few blocks, his legs felt heavy and the need for rest crept across his back. But he wouldn't have it. He had to hide it from Al, no matter what, though that was becoming increasingly difficult as well.

The State alchemist clenched his jaw, feeling a tickling in the back of his throat, knowing what was coming. He immediately clamped his automail hand over his mouth, though the fit continued, the cough growing deeper, more from his chest. Edward could feel his face redden, knowing his little brother witnessed the whole thing, and also knowing that Al would be worried about him, something he didn't want his little brother to be concerned about.

After the fit fizzled out, he tilted his head slightly, giving the suit of armor a sideways glance. "Are you okay, Al? You're awfully quiet," he stated, trying to force a smile, knowing it wouldn't work. Alphonse might have been younger than him, but he sure as hell wasn't gullible enough to not see through the facade. He gave a sigh as silence entertained the space between them.

They continued to walk, Edward in a slight lead. He decided that they should go back to the last crime scene, hoping that perhaps there might be someone who witnessed it besides himself. But even if someone had, it didn't necessarily mean anything either.

He'd been going over the scene once more in his head, feeling even more ashamed of himself when Al's soft voice cut through his train of thoughts.

"Brother, why don't you tell me anything anymore?" the innocent voice echoed through the suit of steel, basically shooting Edward straight in the heart, guilt recoiling through his system.

"What are you talking about, Al? I tell you stuff all the time," he replied with an unsure smile, hating himself for even pretending that everything was alright, when he of all people knew it wasn't.

"No you don't," Al replied matter-of-factly, hurt still hidden away in his voice. "You keep things to yourself, all the time. I know sometimes, you want to say something, but instead, you just get this look on your face and act as though nothing happened. It's like you're pushing me out, bit by bit. What's wrong, Ed?" he asked, knowing the fact that he used his brother's first name would surely catch his attention, though he had already had it with his first question.

The small blonde was quiet for a moment, Alphonse's words sinking in underneath his skin. He hadn't realized his little brother felt that way; but then he had to remind himself that just because Al wasn't made of flesh and blood anymore, didn't mean he was soulless. Hell, that was all that was left of him. He could still feel pain, though it was a deeper pain than any physical he ever could have felt.

"I…I honestly don't know, Al," he replied, a wistfulness in his tone. "A lot of things, I guess," he added, instantly regretting letting out too much. His problems belonged to him; they were his burdens, not Al's, and he wanted to make sure it was kept that way.

"Like what? I mean, are you still upset over that dream you had, because if you are, you shouldn't be. You and I both know that wasn't Mom. She'd never say anything like that to you, ever. You're not letting it get to you, are you?" he inquired, looking down at the elder Elric, somehow knowing Ed would come up with a sure-fire response to keep what he was really feeling under wraps.

"Of course not, I know it was just a figment of my imagination. Even if it did seem real," he mumbled under his breath, Al still catching the last words.

"But it wasn't, and you have to remember that," Al replied, gazing down at his smaller brother. He didn't like the way Ed was looking, nor the way he was walking. His face was taut, his eyes weary. Alphonse didn't like the way he was shivering either, making him long for his body again just so he would be able to hold his brother, do something to keep him warm. And there was something wrong with his legs too. It looked as though he was struggling to take each step, his legs trembling below him. Worry snaked through the back of Al's mind, trying to remember that Edward had said he was fine, even if he didn't look it.

"I know that, Al. It's just--" His words were cut off by another bout of coughing, this time forcing him to lean on the nearest wall so that his knees wouldn't give out. He stood there shaking, the fit seemingly not wanting to end. It took a few minutes, but it finally stopped, and he continued as though nothing had happened. "It's just…some things are more difficult to remember."

Al let his brother's words sit in the air for a moment, unsure of whether he just wanted to pick him up and take him back to their room at the inn; or let him go on, hacking up his lungs one at a time. He shook his head, feeling slightly angry at his older brother for agreeing to go with him, even though the elder Elric should be resting instead of out trying to catch a killer.

"Yeah," Al mumbled, a tinge of bitterness laced in the short return. "Whatever you say, Brother." It was apparent that whatever he had to say obviously didn't matter to Edward at the moment, thus, leading him to remain quiet, much to Edward's dissatisfaction.

The blonde alchemist slowly gazed up at his younger brother, knowing that if his suit of armor could reflect his emotions it would be pouting or scowling down at him, something to that effect. He knew he'd made him mad, but he couldn't help it. Edward Elric was just too stubborn for his own good, and he knew it.

Edward sighed, his thoughts now competing for his attention. But Al still preoccupied the back of his mind, making him feel all the worse. As if watching a blind man get murdered over and over again wasn't enough. His shoulders would have slumped in defeat had they not came across the long-cleared crime scene, his eyes widening as the memory became even more fresh and vivid in is eyes.

"This is it," he confirmed, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes were caught between fright and an unknown worry that rooted itself deep within his soul, now having second thoughts about coming back to the place.

Everything looked nearly identical to that day, though the rain was not coming down as hard; and the coughing fit that his body was forced to subside to was a different variable as well, though thoughts and emotions still tortured him. He didn't even realize he'd been staring at the same spot until Al's voice cut through his torrent of self-deprecation.

"Brother," Al started carefully, temporarily letting go of the anger he felt moments before. "Would you mind telling me what happened? If I could get a better understanding of what you saw, it might help."

"Yeah, sure, Al," he replied, still lost in the daze of the eerie recollection. He took a few steps forward, lightly touching the wall that he had been hiding behind, the cold hand hitting him like a ton of bricks. He could feel tears immediately threaten the edge of his golden eyes, his lips quivering miserably in reflex.

"Brother, are you alright?" Al questioned, worry heavy laden in his tone, immediately taking his place at his brother's side.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just a little cold," he whispered, watching the scene play out for the umpteenth in his head. He recalled how he had felt at that time, and then the fear that had instilled itself deep within his spine as he heard the blind man's cries and attempts at pleading. He watched as the man tripped and stumbled through the pouring rain and fall atop the cruel stone underneath his feet. He saw his eyes--those terror-filled eyes, that even though they actually couldn't see what was going on, they still knew what was going to happen. Edward felt his blood run cold as the other set of footsteps melded into his eardrums.

Al continued to watch him, fear rising in his soul. He'd never seen his brother look so frightened before; it was as though he was reliving his nightmare over again. Only this time, their mother was replaced by the murderer. He was just about to reach out to the trembling blonde when a dry sob escaped his brother's lips, sending his gloved hand back.

Edward stood there, hanging on to the brick wall for dear life as the cloaked figure crept around the corner. The trembling only grew worse as he watched the steel arm makes its way out from underneath the cloak and onto the moaning man's chest. He heard him utter his last words, and then watched yet again as the man's heart was turned into metal, blood creeping from the corners of his open mouth. Then he saw those eyes--those gleaming emerald eyes gaze into his. The feeling of death crept upon his shoulders once again, even though it was just a memory, and he succumbed to it, feeling just as weak as he had that day. He couldn't help but scream when he thought for sure the ice cold hand had made it to his chest.

"Brother!" Al exclaimed, placing both of his gloved hands on his older brother's shoulders. "Brother, it's okay…just…tell me what you saw," he offered, his grasp firm, though he could still feel Edward shaking violently, even if it was involuntary.

It took a minute for the twelve year old to react, his vocal cords choosing to remain quiet. Slowly, he opened his mouth, his eyes still watery.

"I was resting right here, and that's when I heard the victim's footsteps. As soon as I saw his eyes, I knew he was blind," he recalled, trying his best to sound more adult and less scared. "He was crying and pleading, but then he slipped and fell…and that's when I heard the other footsteps." He hesitated for a moment, the feeling of cowardice striking his pride. "All I could do was watch…" he trailed off, his eyes on the verge of spilling more unwanted tears.

"It's okay, Ed," Al tried reassuringly, though inwardly feeling helpless. He wanted so badly to be able to hold his brother, to comfort him. But he couldn't, he was stuck in that empty shell, his soul being its only light.

"No, it's not okay, Al…It's not," he whispered, clenching his jaw, his hands balling into fists at his sides. The blind man was just one person to add to his list of people he'd let down, done nothing for. He shook his head, trying to concentrate on what they were truly there for, knowing that what was done was done, and no matter what, he couldn't change it. Determination settled itself within his blood, though moping was something he'd much rather be doing. "Okay, we've got three clues, Al," he started, turning away from the faded scene. "One, the murderer's name is Kania. Two, they have automail, just how much, we don't exactly know. And three, they have green eyes. Let's get started," he stated, pushing himself away from the desolate street corner and making his way over to a nearby shop.

"Right," Al nodded, following close behind. He watched his brother, praying he'd last throughout the day. The blonde alchemist still appeared as though he was having trouble keeping his balance, and the coughing fits were only growing worse. Plus, it didn't help matters much that the air was getting cooler and more chilly.

"Excuse me, sir?" Edward asked, looking up at the shop owner.

"What can I get ya, kid?" the man behind the counter replied, a butcher's knife in one hand and a bloody towel in the other. "I've got a special today, five pounds of the finest beef you can find for thirty cins; or how 'bout--"

"Uh, no thanks, none of that," he cut the middle-aged man off with a wave of the hand and a sheepish grin. "I-We're actually looking for someone, a Kania," he stated, a glimmer of hope running through his golden orbs. "About this tall," he motioned above his head, "and green eyes."

"Sorry, son, don't know 'em. You could always try the tavern just down the street. They get a bit more of a crowd than I do here. I'm sure you'll find whoever you're looking for there," the salt-and-pepper haired man replied with a smile.

"Thank you for your help, sir," he nodded and went out. It didn't take long for them to find the place, though it looked as though the whole town had managed to fit themselves in there. "Oh, just wonderful," Edward mumbled, trying to fit between the bar patrons. Between hearing Al say that he was sorry about ten times and people telling him to "watch out kid", he'd almost pulled his hair out when he finally made it up to the bar. "Don't people know how to sit down around here?" he blurted out a little too loudly, most of the crowd turning to stare at him.

"Brother," Al warned, feeling slightly embarrassed. "Sorry everyone," he apologized, bowing. "Just a little misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding my ass," Edward whispered, taking a seat at the bar. If he'd waited a second later, he was sure his knees would've given out. He was growing more nauseas by the minute, the urge to regurgitate burning the back of his throat.

"What'll you have?" the bartender asked, grabbing a glass from behind the counter.

"Water, thanks," the blonde alchemist answered, feeling more and more out of place as he looked around. "Looks like you get a lot of business, a lot for a small town anyway," he observed, his eyes falling over the loud group.

"Yeah, I get a fair share," the grey haired man replied, setting down the filled glass in front of the twelve year old. "So what brings you here? Awful young to be going around by yourself, aren't you?" he questioned with a raised eyebrow, suspicion in his tone.

"Business," Edward replied, reluctantly taking a sip of water. His ears were ringing, and his head was pounding, his vision trying to double. He gripped the glass tighter, so tight it almost cracked.

"You? Business?" the older man laughed, his equally grey eyes twinkling. "That's a good one kid. Ha, business," he chuckled, filling another drink.

"Yes, business," the State Alchemist answered, his brow declining a bit angrily. "I'm looking for someone," he stated, giving his pocket watch a tug, making sure the barkeep could see it. "Have you heard of a Kania? Green eyes, with automail?" he asked somewhat casually, a slickness to his voice.

The bartender caught sight of the gleam of silver, making way for his reply. "You're a State Alchemist," he said, curiosity in his tone. "Wait, you said you're here looking for Kania?" he asked, his eyebrow raising.

"Yeah, you know them?" both Ed and Al asked in unison, Edward spilling his water all over the counter, not even bothering to wipe it up.

"Well, _knew _him 's more like it," the thin man replied, a spark of sadness in his eyes. "Kania was a bright kid, it's just a shame what happened to him," he added, shaking his head.

"What are you talking about?" Ed burst out, almost standing up on the stool. He was so close now. This man knew who Kania was, but what was up with this _knew _stuff? Those were not the words he wanted to hear.

"Well, about a year ago, there was a terrible storm, tore down most of the homes around these parts, 'cept for a few. Anyways, his father was very ill, needed some medicine, so the kid went out in the storm to get it for him. He was on his way back when the old Hase bridge collapsed, taking him right into the river. They said his mother found him, poor woman went hysterical after that. Never really seemed right in the first place, but after that…"

Edward took it all in, disbelief written all over his face. More questions than he could count raced through his head, he trying to understand and sort them out as best he could, to no avail.

"He's dead?" Al asked, sadness in his tone.

"Yep, his father went not too much later. But his mother still lives in that same house. Doesn't really get out much. I see her every now and then, but she's more of a recluse, if you know what I mean," the older man answered, scratching an eyebrow.

"So, was this Kania pretty popular?" Edward questioned, biting back the bile that had risen in his throat. He could feel sweat starting to trickle down his temples, and his undershirt stick to his skin. He was almost at his blowing point.

"Oh, yeah! He was one of the nicest kids you could come across. Always had a smile on his face, doing something for someone else. But you know, come to think of it, he didn't have…what'd you call it? Automail?" he asked, answering his own question. "But he did practice that alchemy stuff," he added with a smile. "Always fixing things too. I think I remember him saying something about wanting to become a State Alchemist, though I don't think he took it too seriously. He was too close to his parents to want to go to Central. More content at home, you know?"

"Um, yeah," Edward gave a faint reply, memories of their old town weaving through his mind. Not wanting to grow even more angry at himself, he put those thoughts on the backburner, saving them for another time when he felt like blaming himself for all the things that had went wrong in their short lives. He knew he needed to focus on the present, not the past, though it stuck to his back, haunting him like a shadow at night.

"If you don't mind me asking, why were you looking for him?" the bartender inquired, staring down at the crestfallen alchemist curiously.

It only took a second for an adequate excuse to befall his lips. "My superior officer heard about him back in Central. He sent me here to see if he'd come take the test back there, you know, become a certified State Alchemist. Sir," he continued, trying not to lose all hope. "Would you mind giving us directions to his mother's house? I've got a few things I'd like to ask her."

"Oh, no problem, but good luck though. They've repaired the bridge, but when it rains, especially like it has been, there's a good chance it could be flooded, so be careful." When he had given them the specific directions, he added, "And you two might want to be careful out there. It's getting pretty late and there's a killer on the loose, so watch out."

"We'll do that," Edward nodded, leading the way out of the much less crowded bar and out into an impending storm. "Something's not right here, Al. It just doesn't make sense. How could the killer be dead? Even if he was an alchemist, there's no way he could bring himself back," he stated, eyebrows narrowed in confusion.

"So what do we do now? It _is _getting late. Maybe we should just go back to the inn and start again tomorrow. Maybe we'll have a little more luck," Al offered, looking down at his older brother, worry hitting him more than ever as he watched his brother lean over and throw up. Though it was only water, it still wasn't a pleasant sight to see. "Brother?" he asked cautiously, glad that he couldn't smell the putrid substance that was laying on the ground.

"I'm fine," came Edward's small reply. He knew it would happen sooner or later, though later rather than sooner. "Let's go," he whispered, pushing himself in the direction of Kania's mother's house, his jaw clenched at the bitter taste in his mouth, completely ignoring the heavy drops of rain that were starting to fall.

"Brother, do you really think that's wise? Look at you…you're sick. We need to go back to the inn so you can lie down, or before Mustang realizes we're not there. You know he's going to get suspicious, if he isn't out searching for us already," he added with a touch of concern.

"Screw Mustang," was Edward's blunt reply, entering the forest that surrounded the edge of the town. He tried to take in as much air as he possibly could, though the chillier it was getting, the more it was burning his lungs. Every breath was beginning to sting, though he continued forward. He wouldn't rest until he got to the bottom of it, regardless of how much Al was worried about him.

"But Brother--"

"Look, Al, we're definitely on to something here; and I'm not going to run back to the inn just because of a little cold. I'll be al-" His futile attempts to speak were rendered useless once again by another round of nausea, more bile coming up and out of his throat. He fell to his knees, coughing, his vision fading before him.

"We're going back," Al stated firmly and picked the blonde alchemist up, ignoring his pleas through his coughing fit and the sound of thunder rumbling through the trees. He'd almost made it back to the edge of town when another noise caught him by surprise. "Did you hear that?" he asked, stopping dead in his tracks.

"No, but I bet I could hear it a lot better if you put me down!" Edward whispered loudly through gritted teeth.

"No, listen, Ed, seriously. It's coming from over there," Al whispered back, his steel legs moving towards the origin of the noise, though second thoughts wondered around his mind. He hated it when curiosity got the better of him. As they got closer to the high pitched sound, an eerie red light began pouring through the thick trees and across the small river that rose in front of them.

"That's the bridge, Al!" Edward exclaimed as quietly as he could, scrambling out of his brother's arms.

"Brother! No!" Al shot back, going after him. He could hear the rushing water, and it definitely didn't sound good. "Brother!" he called after Edward, but the twelve year old had already disappeared across it. Al stopped, staring down at the wavering wooden mechanism. He knew he shouldn't do it, but he had to go after his brother. There was just no telling what kind of trouble Edward could get himself into if he was alone. Reluctantly, he started across it, trying desperately to ignore the creaking and moaning of the wood at his feet.

He could hear Edward shout his name, he barely able to make out the outline of the small alchemist waiting on the other side through the sheets of rain and wind gusting around him. Alphonse repeatedly told himself to not look down, it wasn't as though it was that long of a drop, but falling in wouldn't be too pleasant either. He could feel the wood tremble beneath his weight, surely not a good sign; but he was almost there, almost.

He had no time to react when he felt the bridge give one last shake before it broke apart, sending him into the icy waters below. The current immediately pulled him under, hearing Edward scream his name one last time before the black waters consumed his vision.

**Author's note : I apologize if this chapter totally sucked or didn't make any sense. I've got it all planned out in my head, it's just going to be a long road getting through it all, so I'm sorry. And I know the ending was probably the biggest cliché possible, so I apologize for that as well. Alright, enough of that. I want to thank all of you that reviewed or put me on your story alert list. Thank you to all of you who are supporting this story and I hope you decide to stick with me until the end. Until next time.**


	6. Traces of a Ghost

**Title : Whispers of a Nightmare**

**Genre : Anime/Manga**

**Category : Full Metal Alchemist**

**Disclaimer : Nope, this one belongs to someone else as well. **

**Summary : Takes place after the incident with Nina. Something's wrong with Ed, and Al just can't quite figure out what it is. Serious situations and angst ensue.**

**Warnings : Angst, mild language, violence, and other issues that shall go unnamed for now. I don't want to give away too much of the plot just yet, now do I? ;)**

**Rating : T **

**Chapter 6 : Traces of a Ghost**

Precise, rhythmic footsteps echoed softly against the aged oak walls. They passed the winding staircase that ended into a quiet lobby downstairs; passed the window where stray rays of sunlight that had managed to escape the thick, grey clouds highlighted by dust particles that floated lazily through the air; though, they did not pass the desired location, Room number 305. They stopped at a dead halt, in usual military form, though did not even bother to announce their entrance into the near empty room.

The footfalls of Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang subsided indefinitely as he eyed the room with a narrowed brow, his true suspicions being confirmed. But there was no telling just how long it had been since the two brothers had left the room.

He knew he should have acted on the feeling sooner, though dealing with Hawkeye going on about his paperwork and how he needed to be investigating further into the case at hand, he left the thought of the two boys behind, discarding it appropriately.

His eyes drifted from the unmade bed to the apparently long forgotten about pajamas that had been tossed carelessly on to the floor. _Ungrateful little brat…_ the thought streamed through his conscious thoughts, though he was hardly bitter. Now he had two things to partake in; the solving of the case, and finding the Elrics. As if his job could get any worse.

"You boys just don't know what you've gotten yourselves into, do you?" he muttered to himself, turning around and closing the door behind him, all his plans for the rest of the day shot straight to hell.

_&&&&&_

"Ugh…Brother?" Al murmured, pushing himself up off the ground. A fine mist had settled in over night, giving the withering forest that surrounded him an eerie twinge. It swirled up from the dewy ground, twirling around his steel support beams, also known as legs. He moved slightly, hearing the steel reluctantly creak around him. "No! I can't be rusting!" he shrieked, looking down at a few pieces of tinting metal. "Brother's going to kill me! Wait…where is Ed?" he asked himself, looking around. "The last thing I remember…" his voice trailed off, fear singeing his soul.

"Brother!" he called out worriedly, his voice fainter than he'd expected. "Brother!" he tried again, though it's volume didn't raise that significantly. If he had a heart, it would have been beating out of his chest by now.

He was surrounded by towering trees, and grass that was slowly fading away in the din of fall's plight. The sky that hung above him was painted a grayish white, with darker clouds hovering low. The rain had ceased, giving hope to a few faint rays of the sun, though they quickly diminished, passed over by the thickening clouds.

He moved quite loudly through the early morning air, his movements more jerkier and twitchier, almost spider-like due to the fact of the slightly rusted metal. Panic snaked through his soul as he realized he was alone, no sign of his older brother in sight.

He broke off into a run, forcing the steel to bend and move at his will, no matter how loud it clanked beneath him. At that moment, he longed for his body as he did most times when he ran. He wanted to feel the air against his skin, which from the looks of it was most likely chilly and sweet with dew; and the wind whistle through his hair, blowing it from his face just as it did when he was younger. But unfortunately, he was still trapped in his metal confinements, with only a glimmer of hope of escaping settled somewhere deep within his soul.

He stopped momentarily, thankful that his blood seal had not washed away. He quit movement altogether as he tried to figure out how that had been possible when he had been up to his neck in river water. Something wasn't right, and as per usual, a feeling of wariness wrapped around him like a blanket, and he clung to it as he knew he should.

He took a few more steps, pondering the new found thoughts that streamed through his mind. There was very little chance that he had just washed up along the shore, free from the river's rushing current. In fact, now that he thought about it, the river wasn't even in sight.

"This is not possible," Alphonse whispered, metal body shaking slightly, as if the cool air was actually affecting him. His vision darted from his beginning point to where he was at, another chilling thought running rampant through his being; the last thing he remembered was falling off the bridge and into the water and hearing his older brother cry out for him. That had to be hours ago according to the early morning sky, and it hadn't been that late when he'd wanted to turn back…

"What is going on?" Fear gripped his voice and held onto it tightly, choking him from the inside out. More thoughts began to race through his mind, competing for his unwanted attention. How could he have blacked out? He'd never had the need for rest before, and he'd surely never lost consciousness. He didn't have a body so that would be deemed impossible.

But that didn't explain how he woke up in the middle of a clearing, surely a ways away from the river that had supposedly deposited him there. And on top of it all, Edward was no where to be found, the feeling of worry almost crippling him.

Sure, they'd been separated before, when they were young, when Ed had to have a briefing with Mustang, but not totally separated; especially not to the point of not knowing at all where the other one was at. Not like this anyway…

He could feel a shudder overcome the steel suit, reminding him that he still had emotions, feelings, even if he couldn't visibly show them any more, he could still express them with his voice, as small as it might be at times.

He suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to cry. Even though he knew he couldn't, a few whimpers still escaped the armored exterior. He knew he sounded pathetic, but he wanted his brother, he wanted answers, something instead of just being dropped in the middle of nowhere without a clue as to what the hell was going on. He felt the metal clank miserably underneath him, but he didn't care. It wasn't as though he had the ability to act like a child when the feeling arose. After all, that's exactly what he was. An eleven year old boy trapped inside a gigantic tin can, with no means of escape.

His soul-filled eyes that consumed the hollowed holes of the armor seemingly blurred for a moment, as though real tears were truly pouring from them. He put the head of the armor in his gloved hands, wishing that he'd become invisible to the world, even if it was only for a few seconds. Just to shed real tears…

His head snapped up as a foreign sound invaded his hearing. He looked around, unable to see anything at first, though a faded figure arose from the mist several feet away, a large lake edging into his view. Why he hadn't seen it before, he didn't know; and why that person was there also drew a big question mark. He couldn't quite make anything out about the stranger, just the fact that they were clouded in the thick mist that was seemingly refusing to dissipate.

He shakily stood to his feet, now slightly annoyed at the sound of his armor. Hesitantly, he started walking in the direction of the individual, something stirring within. This was just one more piece of the puzzle that didn't fit nor make any sense whatsoever. A part of him kept telling himself that maybe this person could give him some answers; something. But then there was the other part of him, the more rational and cautious part, that kept nagging him to stay away from the stranger. That it was dangerous and he'd be better off discovering things on his own. Unfortunately, the devil on his shoulders won again, much to his dismay.

"Excuse me?" he called out, making his way across the dying grass and out towards the edge of the lake, sounds of insects and other tiny creatures invading his hearing. He listened for a moment, almost paralyzed by their serene music. It took him a moment to shake the melody from his thoughts, but he did, focusing on the person who was slowly walking towards him.

He went to speak again but stopped when the stranger came into clear view. He couldn't tell whether it was man nor woman, due to the fact that they were clad completely in armor, just as he was. Swirls of mist surrounded the unfamiliar guise, appearing as though the metal was being soaked in hot water, though it was just the opposite.

In reflex, Alphonse took a step back, fear running mad circles around his being. He didn't know if it was just from being lost and separated from his brother, or whether he truly had reason to not want to be around this person, but something kept him from moving forwards.

The armored stranger was coming closer now, letting Al see the strange markings that were painted on its left arm and underneath its right eye. He could've sworn he'd seen those in an old alchemy book somewhere, but he couldn't remember why. The distraction was enough for him to lose possible precious seconds as the person approached him, deathly silent.

"E-Excuse me? I was wondering, have you seen a, well, uh, a blonde boy around here, about this tall," he motioned with a gloved hand, regretting that his voice was shaking so badly, though no matter how hard he tried, could not retain his composure.

Silence slid in between the two for a moment, letting the other distracting sounds of nature break in before the figure slowly nodded its head.

Shock nearly overwhelmed the young alchemist as he realized the possibility that Edward might be close. In a most childlike tone, he let out, "Oh, thank goodness. Where?" He knew deep down he shouldn't be talking to this…this person, but his naiveté got in the way, and the only thing he could feel was relief, for a second.

He watched as the person pointed to some place back from the way he had came; the slow, too cool movements instantly making him remember why he had been so frightened in the first place; though as he took his eyes off the stranger, for just a second, he knew he had made his mistake. Metal clashed against metal as the stranger struck Alphonse across his faceplate, a shriek emanating from inside the armor as a sickening crack resounded through his hearing. Without thinking, he retaliated immediately, without any strategic planning.

Using as much force as he could, he punched the stranger directly where his diaphragm would have been underneath the ice cold sheet of metal. The blow didn't even leave a scratch, leading him to the acknowledgement that he was way in over his head, in a seemingly Edward-like situation.

A grunt escaped the hollow shell as he received a gift to the chest plate, fine-lined crevices slowly appearing. He didn't bother to look down. He could sense the damage without even giving it a glance, and needless to say, he was feeling much more than panic at the moment; and that fear that had burrowed itself deep within his soul only grew as he was knocked to the ground, the figure towering above him, emerald green eyes burning into his soul lit ones.

"Brother…" he whimpered as he watched one of the gauntlets come down towards his helmet, moving at a speed far too fast for him to be able to move out of the way.

_&&&&&_

Darkness encompassed his vision, though at the moment, he felt too weak to open his eyes. Everything on him ached, from his head to his jaw to his limbs. Hell, even his automail pained him, the nerves that were connected to the steel machinery jolting every now and then, his teeth gritting in reflex.

His head was swimming even though he was laying down, red splotches and blue circles dancing around his lidded vision. And breathing was seeming to be a chore in itself, his chest feeling heavier than usual; and it didn't help that the air around him felt thick and hard to inhale; humid almost.

He could feel his whole body tingling, more than likely from laying in the same position for so long. His brow narrowed as he realized he didn't have a clue in hell as to where he was. The last thing he remembered was running down stream, chasing after Alphonse; but instead of getting to him, he only made things worse by falling in himself, the chill of the water making him shudder at just the thought. It felt like he'd bathed in ice, then let himself get poked by pins and needles repeatedly until he passed out. He could hear Alphonse's faint cries for help before they faded out of his range. And that was the last of it.

He knew he was on dry ground, though whatever he was laying on sure as hell didn't feel like wet grass. Instead, it felt more like a cushion of some sort, a mattress, perhaps. It took him a minute to recognize the way the cotton felt on his still somewhat cool skin, immediately knowing that this wasn't the same cotton he'd been accustomed to at the inn. This felt rougher, used; and more than likely littered with a few moth holes.

A quiet sound immediately filtered through his ears; the sound of wood cackling in a fireplace. It almost brought a sense of calm to him except for the fact that he knew there were no private fireplaces in the inn rooms, immediately making him long for unconsciousness.

It didn't take long for a certain thought to strike him. "Alphonse," he breathed, his voice barely audible. He could hardly even hear it himself. He tried again, his mouth surprisingly dry. "Al?" He swallowed, noting there wasn't much saliva to recycle, and tried again. "Al," he called out a little louder, though his ears were still met with a much too weak voice, and the sound of wood timbers burning away in the din of fire.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, everything doubling and tripling, his vision blurred worse than ever. A trivial amount of sleep still incrusted the corners of his eyes, the feeling slightly irritating, but he could manage. Gradually, his sight fell into place, he finally being able to make out his surroundings.

He was in a cottage, knowing immediately from how tiny it was. From where he was laying, he could see a small kitchenette off to his right, very near the entrance to the home. It looked almost bare from his view, catching a glance of a bowl of fruit on a dusty counter top, a few closed cabinets, and a small wooden table with two chairs seated at it.

His eyes drifted lazily across the cracked wooden walls and into the room that he was in. There was a rocking chair positioned in the far left corner, and a small door not too far away from that, most likely a bathroom. Off to his right there was a small bed, neatly made and extremely clean, the sheets the color of perfect snow. He raised an eyebrow at this, but didn't give it a second thought.

His vision tried to swim again, but he retained it, concentrating on the few pictures that were the only décor that appeared to be in the place. He squinted, able to make out three faces; a brown haired woman, a black haired man, and a young boy who looked eerily like the man. Obviously it was a family, but he considered the thought on how all three could fit into a place that confined when he caught sight of a ladder leading up to a little area just above the bed. He could make out what appeared to be a pillow and a blanket. _So that's where the kid sleeps. That's…strange._

Though chills were coming and going down his spine, he could feel beads of sweat trickle down his forehead and down the sides of his face, annoying him more than he would have thought. At the same time, a polite coughing fit wracked his petite body, forcing him to sit up, dizziness becoming his constant companion. He went to move his hand to his mouth when anther noise echoed throughout his ear drums. At first, he silently prayed that it was just his automail banging into something by accident; but as his eyes slowly crept to the source, the feeling of having the breath beat out of him rang clearly through his shaking body.

Attached to both of his wrists were shackles, rusted and reeking with the odor of iron and other metallic elements. His dry throat suddenly became consistently drier. He was speechless as the indentations and raw skin around his left wrist became critically clear. He didn't know why he hadn't felt it at first, but the moment his golden orbs took the sight in, pain seared through his veins.

He was about to explode when he realized that two more identical chains of confinement were attached to his belt, one on each side, preventing him from moving more than four or five inches. His eyes traced the outlines of his two legs that were hidden beneath the thin sheet, knowing before seeing that they too were shackled; each chain connected to six stakes that had been simply nailed into the floor.And eachof the stakes wereconnected by more chains,creating a perfect circle.Though try as he might, there was no way in hell he could pull free; but that wasn't the only thought that struck his mind. He nearly fainted at the next sight that befell his eyes. Drawn underneath him was a transmutation circle, one so complicated that not even his prodigy induced intelligence could make him understand it.

He wished this were just another bad dream, another nightmare he could wake up from. He wanted to close his eyes and return to that state of unrest, and even though it might have been uncomfortable, at least he had a small peace of mind. At least then, he didn't know what he had inadvertently gotten himself into.

His brain raced with questions that his intelligence could not answer. He could hear his heart, pounding in his ears, reverberating through his senses. He could almost hear the blood rushing through his veins as it realized that its time might be futile. And he thought he'd felt trapped before. He didn't like the fact that his fate was being directed by someone else, as though he was just a puppet letting his strings get pulled. This was not how he planned to live his life, and this was just another one of those unfortunate happenstances that seemed to sneak up on him, reminding him of who he was at what he was supposed to be doing. And what he had lost.

He absentmindedly pulled on the chains again, a pained grunt escaping his crimson lips. It was as though he was running in circles, without a way out of the impossible maze. He struggled against the metal confines, even the three times as strong automail arm unable to even loosen the stake. Who only knew how deep they went down…

Nausea was slowly creeping up on him, and he knew it, though he was too consumed by the thought of escape to care. It wasn't as though he had anything to lose out of his stomach. It had been empty for longer than he cared to remember. It had even given up its means to announce that it needed something to fill it, remaining silent for awhile now. Though dry heaving hurt worse than the actual spewing of contents from his throat.

He closed his eyes and remained still, trying to take in as much air as he could, though the constant struggle still remained. His sinuses were trying desperately to close up on him, and the more he tried to take in air from his mouth, the more the dizziness taunted him, blurring the corners of his vision. He was going no where fast, and with fruitless results. The fire cackled louder in his ears, mocking him from its comfortable perch. He wanted to scream, just let all his emotions out, fear, helplessness, terror, sadness, longing. But just as he was about to utter any nonsense that would come to mind, the front door opened, a lone figure stepping over the threshold.

He watched the person with contempt in his golden eyes, knowing full well that they were the reason why he had chains keeping him company instead of his brother. A low growl evaded his throat, bits of spittle parting his lips, but before he could say anything, they spoke first, the voice chilling him.

"I see that you're awake," the woman's voice came in to his ears, her tone soothing though hanging on the edge of menacing.

He kept silent, observing her every move, though biting on his tongue was starting to hurt worse than the shackles keeping him pinned to the ground. She was quite tall and thin, albeit a little too thin. Her long, graying hair was pulled back into a loose tie, stray wisps falling just past her shoulders, revealing a few brunette strands. Her attire consisted of a floor-length dress, obviously black at one point in time, but after years of ware, had fallen into a state of dull grey. A button-up off-white sweater completed the outfit, hanging loosely on her gaunt-like frame. His eyes slowly drifted upwards, meeting her bright emerald green ones. He felt his heart skip a beat.

"Where's my brother?" he spat out without much thought, anger burning in his fiery, golden orbs. He pulled on the chains as he spoke, though they didn't budge, much to his dissatisfaction.

"Your brother is doing just fine," she cooed, an unnatural gleam streaking through her eyes. "In fact, he's playing with my son as we speak," she added, a wickedly perfect smile haunting her features.

He felt his stomach turn as thoughts of his own mother and the nightmare that had taunted him for the past few years surged through his head. But he knew that this woman was nothing like his mother, not in the least, the only common factor being they had both given birth and that was pretty much it. His brow narrowed more as she came closer to him, bile teasing his tongue.

"My brother doesn't play with murderers!" he spat, struggling against the heavy metal chains once more with no avail. He could feel his muscles screaming bloody murder in his ears, but he ignored their pleas and continued to yank on the thick chains, chaos ensuing in his head.

The expression on the woman's gaunt face changed from strangely charmed to morbid anger. He watched as her brow declined, the lines on her forehead finally showcasing her age. She appeared to be around the age of fifty, possibly older, but then again, having a murderer for a son could do horrific things to your youthfulness. She advanced on him quickly, slapping him across the face, her long nails tracing blood lines into his pale skin. He flinched but held his ground.

"My son is not a murderer!" she shrieked back at him, her eyes dancing wildly with madness and bewilderment. "How dare you speak such blasphemy, dog of the State!" More strands of hair escaped from the leather tie, falling compliantly into her strained visage. "If anyone's a murderer, it's you, you pathetic excuse for an alchemist! I can't even fathom why they'd let even you join their ranks. They must have gotten desperate," she added, the wicked smile sliding back onto her face as she saw his cheeks flush with anger.

"I'm not the one going around killing innocent people, now am I?" he spat back, feeling the warm blood chill against his skin. He continued to work on his confines, but they only rubbed harder on his flesh, sending a burning sensation flooding through his wrist.

She flashed her too perfect teeth at him again, her eyes seemingly the only thing alive on her. "Innocent people?" she questioned, an airy tone to her voice. "Those were not innocent people, for the simple fact that no one is innocent, not even at birth." She stood there, glowering down at him, arms crossed against her chest.

"I watched him murder a blind man! A man that didn't do anything to anyone! An _innocent _man--" he emphasized the word, "And without any conviction of any sort! Your son is a cold-blooded murderer and doesn't even deserve to practice alchemy!" he exclaimed, a coughing fit rendering him temporarily speechless, much to the woman's delight. She stood there waiting patiently, her grin widening as he started to wretch.

"Foolish child," she laughed, her voice deepening for a moment. "It's people like you who don't deserve the precious gift of alchemy. Wretched thing," she ticked her tongue, shaking her head as she came closer yet again, bending down to one knee in front of him.

"You filthy-" he paused, more coughing interrupting his torrent of insults. "Evil witch!" he continued, inwardly feeling embarrassed as spit and phlegm littered his chin and the sheet beneath him, which only made him angrier. "Disgusting, no good, awful--" This time his words were cut off as she gripped his flesh arm, digging her blood-tainted nails into his skin. A cry of pain parted his lips, she laughing as a retort.

"You are a practitioner of taboo, of forbidden alchemy. Those artificial limbs that pollute your body are results of your actions, are they not?" she inquired, her eyes gleaming again, her nails digging deeper. Without waiting for him to answer, she continued. "My son never hurt a soul. He was the kindest, most gentle boy a mother could ever wish for. He was destined for great things…great things," her voice trailed off, her mind revisiting another time.

He tried to jerk his shoulder away from her seemingly strong grip for a woman of her stature, but it only tightened and dug in deeper, cutting and tearing more layers of skin. The sudden movement removed her from her fantasy, the far away look transforming into one of tormented anger and corruption. Then the smile reappeared again, the corners of her mouth twitching erratically.

"And those great things will come to pass. Very soon," she said, sounding as though she were talking more to herself than to the pained boy sitting in front of her. Her eyes drifted slightly, the grin growing more wicked and out of place.

He was silent for a moment, letting a question travel to his tongue. "I just have one question," he stated, a hint of a smile tainting his features. "Tell me, how can a dead man murder someone?" His eyes flickered with a slight touch of victory, but it was quickly distinguished as she replied.

"My son is not dead. Maybe his body is, but his soul isn't," she answered, madness tinting her tone. Her grip loosened, though her hands stayed dangerously close.

Edward's eyes widened in reflex, terror flooding his stomach. He wanted felt the urge to vomit once again, but it was held back as her hand clenched tightly around his throat, a tiny grunt escaping his lips. "You transmuted his…," he managed to leak out before his vocal cords were squeezed off.

"That's right," she stated, a few of her stray hairs tickling his face, hers within inches of his. She was so close, he could see the veins throbbing in her neck, the flicker of true insanity in her emerald orbs.

"But…but…his eyes…" he choked out, his vision darkening due to the lack of oxygen he wasn't receiving.

"Oh, yes, they're beautiful, aren't they? They were the only part I kept of him. The rest was useless, but his eyes. I couldn't dare rid him of his most beautiful feature, now could I?" she asked, her own matching ones filling the young blonde with instant terror and goosebumps.

"E-E-Equiv…" he tried to spout the law, but it was useless. She loosened her grip, taunting him with her power over him, thoroughly enjoying every minute of it. "I…I don't understand," he whispered, his throat sore with pain. "What could you have possibly given? You're…you're not missing anything…"

She grew eerily still at his question, as though he was already supposed to know the answer. She straightened up a bit, a hint of the grin returning to her lips. "Why, I gave my husband, of course," she answered, as though it simply should have been that way and no other.

"But…you wicked old hag!" he tried so hard to shout, but his voice went in and out, only passing for barely above a whisper, making her laugh once again.

"Hardly, child," she replied, staring into his golden orbs. She was silent for a moment, letting her warm breath breeze across his face, knowing all the while how much it sickened him, much to her amusement.

He stared into her eyes, a scowl marking his woe-filled features. The next question that erupted from his mouth rendered him completely still, not wanting to hear anymore. "What am I here for then?" he wheezed out. "What do you want with me and my brother?" he spat, his voice still hovering on the barely audible side.

"Oh, I want nothing of your brother. He's just an empty shell, just as my son is. Though that will all change," she said, pulling something from her pocket. Edward's heart stopped beating as a small, red stone fell upon his eyes. "But you on the other hand, will prove quite efficient, even if you do have two fleshless limbs."

"What are you getting at?" he questioned, a lump forming in his throat, his voice starting to shake.

Her grin widened, almost to the point that if it got any bigger, he was sure her teeth would break.

"It's quite simple. With the help of this completed stone," she said, the small red object giving off a slight glow between her fingertips. "My son will have a new body tonight. Yours."

He froze, a thought surfacing in the back of his mind. This woman was going to kill him, and he didn't even know her name.

**Author's note : You're probably reading this and going WTF? And then you're asking yourself, well, if she has a stone, why can't she just bring his original body back, right? Well, I won't go into too much detail, but I'll give a hint : all humans are composed of the same thing, therefore, you could have all the elements and even the soul, but the genetic makeup still wouldn't be what it was before, and could considerably alter what the person looks like. After all, there weren't ever any successful human transmutations, were there? Plus, Ed- wait, saying too much there, you'll just have to read the next chapter to find out, if you don't know already.**

**Apart from all the technical talk, I just want to thank each and every one of you who reviewed, and that goes for all chapters. And also to those who put this story in their alert list and favs. The support means a great deal to me, and I appreciate every single word of it, constructive or not. So please, let me know how I'm doing. If it sucked, if it rocked, whatever. I'll take whatever comes. Until next time.**


	7. Land of Forlorn

**Title : Whispers of a Nightmare**

**Genre : Anime/Manga**

**Category : Full Metal Alchemist**

**Disclaimer : Nope, this one belongs to someone else as well. **

**Summary : Takes place after the incident with Nina. Something's wrong with Ed, and Al just can't quite figure out what it is. Serious situations and angst ensue.**

**Warnings : Angst, mild language, violence, and other issues that shall go unnamed for now. I don't want to give away too much of the plot just yet, now do I? ;)**

**Rating : T **

**Chapter 7 : Land of Forlorn **

Using his quick wit mixed with relentless fear, Alphonse pushed himself out of the way with a second to spare, the iron gauntlet landing beside his helmet, etching a jagged scratch down its side. Fear wracked him mercilessly as the second fist came down to finish what the first one hadn't. Still hearing the echoes of the screech of his steel faceplate, he pushed with all the strength he had, managing to knock his attacker back a ways, though it didn't deter the defiant stranger.

Al knew that the distraction would only give him a fraction of a minute to change his position. Acting purely on instinct, he rolled over and pushed himself to his knees, all the while hearing the clanking of the other suit of armor coming towards him.

_I can't die now! Brother needs me! And if this thing is after me, I don't even want to know what he's gotten himself into!_

Taking a chance, he kicked behind him, thankful that his opponent wasn't expecting it as he heard the steel connect and the other fall backwards. He seized the opportunity he was given and stood to his feet, taking off in the direction he originally came from. From what he could tell, he was on the other side of the river, where hopefully the origin of the red light from the previous night would be. And knowing Edward, he would definitely be near it too.

Alphonse was thankful that he didn't have to worry about lungs or breath at that moment, because he knew he would have been out of it by now. Though the steel did have its disadvantages. He couldn't run quite as fast due to the heaviness of the material, but then again, he didn't have to worry about losing breath or slowing down either.

His pace sped up as he heard armor clanking behind him, seemingly at a faster speed than what he was going. Turning his head slightly, he could see the stranger just a few feet away, gaining on him hastily. _Oh no! How could he be so fast? Brother even has a hard time keeping up with me! And he's flesh and blood…well, not completely…_

The thought saddened him, but at the moment, he didn't have time to lament. He narrowed his vision on the clearing that was a few yards ahead, praying that he could somehow find an escape or a way to defeat the person that was at his footfalls, but the weight that struck him directly in his back proved that he was too late. He could hear the steel cringe and bend, moving inward and nearly breaking altogether. Whoever this person was, they were strong, and would prove to not be easily defeated, a thought that frightened him all the more.

_What if I don't live to see Brother again? How can I help him get back to the way he used to be? I can't! No, I won't! I won't let this happen! Brother needs me, and I can't give in so fast! _

He felt determination rile his soul as he fell forward, though not completely to the ground. He steadied himself on a tree, turning back around to face the monster that had become his shadow. He managed to land a swift kick to the stranger's chest plate, though it didn't seem to do any good. Al could have sworn he heard a low, guttural laugh emanate from inside the steel, though he wasn't sure. He managed another blow to the other's face plate, though that had no effect either.

His opponent swung, connecting with Al's shoulder. The sickening crack resonated through the early morning air, birds still chirping merrily and insects still singing as though nothing had happened. But it had. He didn't feel any pain; but that wasn't the problem. The problem was that his left arm was now lying useless on the spongy ground, utter loss of control raging though him. He wanted to cry and scream all at the same time, though the shock of it all rendered him temporarily speechless, only a small squeak escaped the hallow armor.

He was frozen; completely. Paralyzed. He couldn't move whatsoever. Fear became a tornado that twisted through his soul, tearing him apart from the inside out. In the back of his mind, something was telling him that Edward would be able to fix it, that it would be okay; but just seeing a piece of him laying on the soft earth like that terrified him. What if it had been Ed fighting this thing instead? And what if the same thing had happened to him, only there would have been screams of pain and blood splattered everywhere?

His consciousness was going into overdrive after one horrible thought after another raced through his system. What if this and what if that, but ultimately, another blow hit him, knocking him out of his train of horror-filled thoughts. He felt the metal crack once more and threaten to split as the stranger pounded him in the side, panic streaking through his being.

He had to protect Ed, no matter what. And in order to that, he had to remain alive, hollow body or not. If he wasn't there for his brother, then who would be? It wasn't as though they had any family left. Sure, there were Aunt Pinako and Winry, but they weren't truly family. There was no mother, and definitely no father. He had disappeared without a trace, and would most likely never be seen again. No one. Absolutely no one. Alphonse couldn't have it--no, he wasn't going down without a fight. Not this time.

Letting out a loud cry, he rose up, pushing the stranger away with as much force as he could muster, knocking it off its feet. Whoever this was was intent on killing him, or getting close enough to. He didn't want to kill the stranger, just disable him long enough that he could get away and find his brother, if that were possible.

Without thinking, a question resonated through his shell, surprising even himself. "Who are you?" he grunted, dodging a kick from his attacker. When he received no response, he tried again, this time pinning the stranger down to the ground and putting all of his weight on him. "Who are you, and what do you want? What do you want from me?" His voice was quivering, fear contained tightly in it.

The stranger continued to struggle, ignoring Alphonse's questions. Before long, they had switched positions, dirt and earth sticking to pieces of the shiny steel, polluting their cleanly kept exteriors. Of course it was harder for Alphonse to gain any ground, having the disadvantage of being able to use only one arm, but he was persistent, causing them once again to assume the other's role, he getting on top. It took him a moment, but a thought that should have crossed his mind minutes ago finally struck him like an anvil. He didn't understand how he could have been so blind.

"You're Kania," he whispered, his voice barely audible. He stopped fighting, letting his good arm slowly return to his side. He stared down into the emerald green eyes, the same exact ones that Edward had stared into when he was scared for his life. This was the murderer.

The armor beneath him stopped struggling as well, Al's words greeting his ears. The emerald orbs flashed something that he hadn't seen before. It wasn't hate, like it had been when he had first saw them. This time it was an expression of sadness, of woe.

Everything stood still around them; the earth, the air, even the song of the animals ceased, drowned out by the realization of who was in their presence. Silence entwined their souls, swirling in the mist that flowed between them. It was as though time had stopped momentarily, letting the words thoroughly sink in.

Al's emotions became mixed as a new conclusion made its way to his mind. This was the person who tried to kill Edward. The one who tried and almost succeeded in taking his heart and transmuting it into metal. But then another question arose, one that came from the other side of his mind; how? Kania was supposed to be dead, killed in a storm, drowned. But this was him, he was sure of it. The only way that could be possible…

Without a second thought, he lifted up Kania's face plate. It was as empty as his was. He was a hollow shell, just like him. Sympathy slowly wound its way through his being, he knowing exactly how Kania felt. He knew what it was like, not being made of flesh and blood, longing to smell, taste and touch, feel things as they should be, not numb as they were now. He slowly sat back against a tree, his emotions getting the better of him. And somewhere in the depths of his soul, he had to remind himself that hollow shell or not, Kania was still a murderer and that wouldn't change.

"I know how it feels, to be stuck in this empty shell without being able to feel anything. I understand what you're going through, but I don't understand why you're killing people. They're innocent people, Kania. Why…I just don't get it," he stated, watching the other suit of armor slowly rise into a sitting position.

"Because it's the only way," a quiet voice replied, emanating from the other steel suit, its head bowing as its face plate was put back into place.

Alphonse looked up, surprised that he got a response this time. The soft voice that made its way through his hearing sounded quite sad and depressed, not the deep, hateful one that he imagined. He was feeling more empathetic as the seconds went by. But he still couldn't understand.

"The only way to what?" Al questioned, confusion evident in his tone.

"It was the only way to complete the stone," Kania answered, slowly meeting Al's lost gaze.

Shock overwhelmed the eleven year old alchemist, knowing that if he had a mouth, or a jaw for that matter, both would have surely dropped to the ground. An odd sensation filtered through his soul; half hope, half dread. They hadn't been searching for long, and practically the first case they receive and it leads them to a stone? _This has to be too good to be true_, the thought wandered through Al's mind, though he contemplated it further, curiosity getting the better of him.

"You have…a stone? A Philosopher's stone? _The _Philosopher's stone?" he inquired, his voice getting higher with each syllable. He was almost in a state of disbelief, though he couldn't help but give into his wonderment.

The suit of armor opposite Alphonse shifted, albeit uncomfortably. Kania nodded slowly, his armor clanking quietly. He looked up towards the sky as fat droplets of rain began bouncing and clinking on the slightly dirty armor, washing away some of its stains.

"We'll talk more about this later," he stated, his tone hardly harsh as he pushed himself up to his feet. "I'll take you to my house, so we'll be out of the rain. It looks as though we could both go without the rust."

Just listening to the teenager speak made Alphonse feel even worse. He was torn between anger and sadness, knowing that the life Kania was living was not a pleasant one; but it still didn't give him the right to do what he had been doing. But if he had a stone, a real stone, what was the need to kill people? It just didn't make sense. And the fact that he was so calm and quiet now, just as the bartender had said he was, and not the vicious attacker that was out for another kill just an hour before. He was a bit reluctant to follow him, but he needed answers and his brother, therefore making it his only chance.

"You really haven't seen my brother, have you?" he asked faintly as they made their way deeper into the woods, dodging bushes and stray tree branches that had snapped off their owners in the storm.

He received no response from Kania, the previous feeling of fear still lingering within him.

&&&&&

The never-ending rain was starting to come down harder as Lieutenant Colonel Mustang and his First Lieutenant made their way out of the safe confines of the inn and out into the nearly desolate but wet streets of Kiase. The darkening of the clouds that were scattered across the sky clearly stated that it would not be letting up any time soon, thus the need for the pair's black rain coats.

"Explain to me again why there wasn't a car waiting for us," Mustang's low voice cut through the air, slight irritation more than evident.

"Well, sir, as you know, the town of Kiase is small, therefore the need for military personnel is lacking," she answered in her authoritative tone, black hood covering her short blonde hair.

"So basically what you're telling me is that there is none," he returned, giving her a sideways glance, eyes narrowed at his luck.

"Correct, sir," she stated, a hint of amusement in her tone. She knew that as Mustang moved up in the ranks, he expected more, and when he didn't receive it as was the case now, dealing with him would prove to be an even more arduous task.

"So the last time the boys were seen was at the local tavern?" he asked, trying not to vocalize the concern that was hidden within him, though his First Lieutenant could already see through his hardened exterior.

"Yes, sir. The bartender stated that they had been in there asking about a Kania LaShea, and that supposedly they had come to escort him back to Central to take the State alchemist's exam, as we both know to be false," she replied, as though she were reading off a report. "From there they apparently left to go to his mother's house, but I wasn't informed of exactly where it's located."

Mustang took in the information, sorting it to the appropriate files in his brain. "It sounds to me as though they found the killer," Mustang's wary gaze shifted, landing on the location of the Elric's last known whereabouts.

"Sir?" Hawkeye questioned with a surprised tone, not expecting the Lieutenant Colonel's assumption. After a moment, she gave him the last piece of information. "Well, that would be the case if Mr. LaShea were still alive. He died a year ago in a drowning accident."

"Well, it doesn't look like the Elric's are buying it, and therefore, neither am I. They may just be children, but they have more intelligence than the average eleven and twelve year olds. And they also have their reasons, so for now, I'll just have to follow them," the black haired man returned, entering the dimly lit tavern and making his way to the bar area.

"What can I…get for you two?" the grey haired man behind the bar asked, the smile slowly slipping off his face, taking note of their uniforms.

"The LaShea's address," Mustang replied, not even bothering to sit down. He stood there staring at the older man, rain dripping off of him and forming small puddles on the floor below.

"The LaShea's? Well, I'm afraid you can't get there at the moment. After that bad storm last night, the bridge 's washed away. You'll have to go at least a mile or two downstream before you reach another one," he affirmed, going back to polishing the glass he held in his hands.

"I'm sure we can make our way across the river by our own accord, so if you can just give me the directions on how to get there, we'll be on our way," the Lieutenant Colonel suggested, not moving an inch.

"O-kay, the grey haired man nodded, giving them the details, albeit a bit hesitantly.

"Thank you," Hawkeye replied quickly, Mustang not even bothering to do so as he went out the door before her, bells ringing faintly behind them as they exited the small establishment. "Sir, is there a problem?" she inquired, catching up with him.

"The whole town is in on it," he informed her, an air of anger burning around him.

"And how did you come to that conclusion?" she questioned with a raised eyebrow, walking nearly in sync with her superior.

"These murders have been going on for almost a year now," he began, making his way to the edge of the deserted forest, a determined look set in his onyx eyes. "But they weren't reported until three weeks ago. These people knew what was going on, but for some reason beyond my knowledge, they don't seem to care."

"Don't you think we should call for back up then, sir?" the First Lieutenant queried, holding a stray tree branch out of the way for the Lieutenant Colonel.

"That's already been arranged," he answered simply, moving deeper into the forest.

&&&&&

Edward sat there, basking in the thick silence that coveted the room. Information went through his head faster than he could catch, helpless as his brain tried to process it, but failed. It was just too much to take in, to understand. Sure, he and Al hadn't been searching for long, and one of the first cases that comes along, and this happens?

He shivered as a chill shook him, making the rusted chains clank as well. For a split second, an image of Alphonse ran across his mind, armor clanking every time he moved. _And this isn't even the half of it_, the thought struck him. He'd never know what it would feel like to be trapped in that shell, and here his brother was, and the one thing that could get him his body back was standing right in front of him, glued to a pathetic old woman's hand. Life just wasn't fair.

Anger settled itself just below his skin, bubbling furiously. Questions without answers flooded his system. If he could just get out of those damned chains…

Golden bangs hung in his face, hiding the tears that were threatening to spill onto his cheeks. In the faintness of pain that positioned itself in the background of his thoughts, he could feel the blood still exiting his wounds. And even though they weren't large in size, they still stung, the area around them red and splotchy. But the scratches nor the raw throat weren't the cause of his sudden want to cry; it was the fear that he had absolutely no control of the situation at hand.

And on top of that, he knew she was watching him, waiting. Waiting for the tears to fall and the child within him to kick in. And he knew she would be patient, stand there for the next three days if that's what it would take. And _she _knew that behind those sweat tinged bangs, there was a lip that was quivering, and teeth that were biting on it as hard as they could to prevent a whimper from escaping them. He could hear the faintest scoff mock him from her still wide spread grin, and that made it even worse.

The twelve year old could hear the chains making noise again, and as much as he tried to stop it, he couldn't it. His body was continuing to betray him, and a little thing known as fatigue was starting to burrow through his veins, forcing his limbs to shake and his teeth to chatter.

He raised his head slowly, feeling the heat from the fire and another chill slide through his body at the same time, instantly recognizing the prerequisites to nausea. Bile tickled the back of his throat, lightly singeing his tonsils. The small blonde took in a sharp breath, trying his best to prevent the retching, but it happened anyway, water and bile spewing from his mouth and onto the dusty hardwood floor.

His ears began to ring as the woman's shrieking filled his head. The vibrations from her high tone only worsened the headache that was dizzying the back of his skull, making his vision blur.

"How dare you! Get my floor so unclean!" Her tone was shrill as it rang over the cackle of the fire that was still burning brightly in the small fireplace. "You'll pay for that!" she exclaimed, suddenly grabbing him by the back of his hair and almost forcing him face down into his own vomit. The smell only made more come up. She held onto his braid tightly, her fingernails digging into the back of his head. "Clean it up." This time, her voice was quiet, deathly still with a bitter bite to it.

His eyes widened at the command, then closed quickly as he realized how close he was to the floor. He shook his head, instantly regretting it as his head began to spin once and more bile threatened to burn his already abused throat. "Clean it up yourself, witch!" he managed to choke out before his head was jerked up quite quickly, his face meeting hers once again.

The look of utter madness was gone, replaced with a sweet-faced grin that tugged the corners of her eyes up just enough to make out the fine lines that rested underneath them. With one hand, she continued to grasp his braid, though the grip loosened, ever so slightly. With the other, she placed the seemingly gleaming red stone back into her pocket and lifted it up to his chin, her nails gently caressing his pale skin.

Her emerald green eyes bore holes into his, fear clearly evident in his wide golden ones. He tried to force anger into them, but something about the way she was touching him frightened him almost into a state of infantilization. He shuddered, inwardly feeling torn to shreds. If he could just reach his hand a little further into her pocket, he could get the stone, but the longer he looked into her eyes, the feeling of paralysis crept throughout his veins.

He almost had it…

"Foolish child. By one means, you are as intelligent as they come, almost as intelligent as my Kania; but the other part of you is hardly developed yet. While you thrive in alchemy, you lack in common sense," she stated, edging her way further into his psyche. Hints of insanity continued to dance in her eyes as she spoke. "And try as you might to justify the reasoning for your sin, you can't. And you never will." Her hand quickly darted from his chin to his jaw, squeezing as hard as her strength would permit, the grin slowly starting to appear once again.

Without thinking, he spit in her face, giving him just enough time to fish the answer to his problems out of her pocket. He had it in his fingertips, feeling the coolness of it glide over his skin. He could almost swear it was radiating. Then he dropped it, just out of the edge of the circle, an inch out of his reach. He'd really done it this time.

He could feel the tears leak through his tightly closed eyelids as he tried so desperately to gain what he'd set out for, all the while knowing that it was lying inches from him, mocking him in its ruby red brilliance. And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it but sit there and take whatever was coming to him. It wasn't long before the backlash began, leaving more tears in its wake.

"As I said before, no common sense." Her eerily cool tone shot through the heavy air, straight into his already throbbing eardrums and right through his skull. Terror seized his limbs; he was frozen again, though this time, he didn't have a definite answer as to why. He just was, and he hated it almost as much as he hated himself.

"Shut up," he whispered through grit teeth, slowly allowing his eyes to open, almost retching again at the sight in front of him. The woman hadn't even bothered to wipe the remnants of his vomit or spittle from her face, she just let it sit there, the too perfect smile etching itself onto her lips once again. Her eyes were gleaming with such present insanity that it broke the twelve year old, a woe-filled sob echoing off the cottage's tiny bare walls. "Stop it!" he cried out, disparity in his voice. "Just stop it!"

"Stop what?" she asked, her tone simple; innocent. "I'm not doing anything," she stated, her gaze never faltering. She moved forward slightly, letting her breath touch him again. She continued to stare at him, knowing how much it bothered him. She was so close now that he could see the traces of wrinkles on her forehead, and the fine laugh lines that silhouetted her mouth, obviously evidence from years of smiling that god-awful smile.

"You know what I'm talking about," he uttered through a clenched jaw, keeping his eyes on her hands at all times. The woman was truly unpredictable, and knowing that made him feel even more ill. It was quiet once again, the only sounds being his own breathing, fast and harsh. Every time he took a breath, he could feel something rattle in his chest and the faint rasp of a cough tease him, and it didn't help that the air in the room had seemingly dropped, even with the fire cackling away in his ears.

"Actually, I don't," she grinned, her fingers making their way towards his face, causing him to struggle with the chains once again, all the while knowing his actions would prove to be futile, and in five minutes, the damned things would still be holding him hostage.

"Don't touch me!" he cried out, his voice cracking as he saw her hands coming for his face again. "Leave me alone!" he squeaked, squirming to get out of her reach. He closed his eyes tight, feeling the skin around his wrist grow more raw with each tug. Blood oozed slightly from the wounds that circled his wrist and ankle, fear starting to circulate through his veins.

"It'll all be over soon," she whispered in his ear, cupping his face in her hands. He almost retched again at the odor that invaded his nostrils, her hands smelling a mix between iron and onions. "Soon, you'll be my perfect little boy again, and nothing will be able to take you away from me. Absolutely nothing." Her emerald eyes were fixed on his gold ones, madness radiating from them. The twelve year old cried out as he felt her nails dig holes into his cheeks, blood immediately running from the fresh wounds, as well as the old ones that littered his face.

He could feel dizziness spinning towards him again, his head swaying to one side as he glared at her out of the corner of his eyes. Consciousness was started to fade on him, black and blue spots running across his vision. He didn't want to give up, especially if Al was near. But holding himself in an upright position was starting to become a chore in itself, even if the old woman was partially keeping him that way. Biting his bottom lip, he asked the question that had been on the tip of his tongue since the old woman had pulled the precious stone from her pocket.

"Where'd you get it?" he queried through grit teeth, pain flooding through his body. Winry had warned him about the toll the automail could take on his body, and now he that warning was ringing in his ears as an unknown heaviness settled over his nerves. His eyes wanted to close, his lids growing increasingly heavy as well, but he fought it, waiting for her response.

She stared at him for a long moment, letting her transfixed gaze slowly subside. Her smile faded slightly, a look of confusion and resentment warping her gaunt features. She pulled away from him suddenly, resting on her knees, her hands folded carelessly in her lap.

Edward let out a weak shudder as he saw his blood on the cottony material she was wearing. He was almost on the verge of praying when she spoke.

"Alchemy was like a trait in our family, passed down from generation to generation until it would eventually become perfected, and that time came with Kania." She paused for a minute, her eyes seemingly recollecting past years of her life. "Right before he was born, I grew ill, almost to the point of death." At the last word, the dullness in her eyes shattered and was replaced with a bright brilliance, gleaming even in the bleariness of the cottage.

"My husband found a doctor that was traveling through town, a very stupid man," she hissed, her tone growing bitter, a scowl coming over her face. "He told me that if I went through with the birth, one of us would not live to see the next sunrise. I couldn't bear the thought of losing Kania…But then he mentioned that he had a way to change that, and that's when he took this out of his pocket," she grinned again, a short laugh parting her lips as she picked up the stone and twirled it between her bloody fingertips, right in front of Edward's face.

"And after he showed me its power, I killed him." The words swirled around the room, eventually landing in the twelve year old's ears, his weary eyes widening at the affirmation.

"What…was his name?" he asked, barely able to look at her. The grin vanished as she gave a response.

"I don't recall," she answered quickly, bitterly again as though every word were laced with bile. "But that doesn't matter, now does it?" she continued, the smile put right back into place, her too perfect teeth appearing not as perfect as he first thought. Since she was so close, he could see how truly yellow and crooked they were. Perhaps the firelight had tricked his eyes, or maybe he was starting to hallucinate. He'd heard of stranger things.

"It only worked that one time. It saved my Kania, but after wards, it became dull, useless. But I had no need for it anyway, but I put it away, for safe keeping," she stated, holding it close to her chest, it getting further and further away from Edward as the seconds went by, his hope starting to dwindle.

"But then I heard a rumor," the statement came from out of nowhere, her eyes traveling back to that far off place of fantasy and wonderment. "They said that it would work again, but it needed fuel. And the only fuel that could make it work again were souls. And so my dear Kania decided to collect them for his mother, sweet boy. He deserves to be back, even if it is within the likes of you," she snarled, her yellowed teeth baring slightly.

His head was spinning with questions, fear and confusion striking his soul temporarily helpless. "What do you want me for?" he burst out, his mind still on the stone that hovered a few yards away from within his reach. "Why me? What's so special about me?" he cried out, using up the last of any ounce of strength he had. Unconsciousness was sneaking up on him slowly but surely.

"If you were able to survive the grandest taboo in alchemy, then surely you have talent. That or just pure dumb luck, but either way, you lived, you survived," she said breathlessly, all her words coming out in a rush, her emerald orbs full of something unknown but frightening. "And that's all that matters. If you truly are that powerful…your power combined with my Kania's…What great things could come…" her voice trailed off, a sick sense of joy in her seasoned voice.

The blonde was almost to the point of blacking out, everything hitting him too hard, too fast. He felt his eyes closing and his breathing growing heavier. Any second now…

He was almost out when he heard the door open. Faintly, he could just make out two figures before his body got the better of him and exhaustion kicked in. He only hoped one was Al, if not, life as he knew it would come to an end.

**Author's note : Wow. That's pretty much all I can say. Thank you all so much for your support and your reviews. They mean the world to me, honestly. When I first started this story, I wasn't expecting to get much of a response, but thanks to all of you, I've got like, 56 reviews, and that's way more than what I had hoped for, so truly, sincerely, THANK YOU! ; )**

**I'd like to thank the following people for your continuous support, in one way or another : Aemilia Rose, Legendary Chimera, marufu-chan, Harryswoman, JChrys, Kuropuu, hyperdude, vampirelf, Akamori-Chan, Dreamthreader, Mayoki, Zion, Lyemi, agent000, Ark, Birth of Venus, cuylerjade, ChibiCorsair, Ominous-Shadow, me, donna, Punk Rocker Girl, Roy-Fan-33, Black-fire Dog, Demon-Dog, amrun'quessir, Rozewind, br14nn4, citruspeach, CrazyDreamin, Crystal Remnant, darkalai, FullDexter Alchemist, Here's Hoping, iwantalife, Maximum Poofy, pippy32388, TayloWolf, The Silver Goddess Alchemist, youkaiwriter, Yueh-san, and anyone else who reviewed or put me on a list. **

**I apologize for not responding this time, but I will next time around. So thank you one and all, and let me know if it sucked or not, or if I was a bit repetitive. Or anything for that matter. THANKS EVERYONE!**


	8. Insanity's Plight

**Title : Whispers of a Nightmare**

**Genre : Anime/Manga**

**Category : Full Metal Alchemist**

**Disclaimer : Nope, this one belongs to someone else as well. **

**Summary : Takes place after the incident with Nina. Something's wrong with Ed, and Al just can't quite figure out what it is. Serious situations and angst ensue.**

**Warnings : Angst, mild language, violence, and other issues that shall go unnamed for now. I don't want to give away too much of the plot just yet, now do I? ;)**

**Rating : T **

**Chapter 8 : Insanity's Plight**

They were getting deeper into the forest, the wind starting to howl past them, though neither could actually feel it. Though Alphonse knew that if he could, he'd more than likely be shivering. He looked around, taking in his surroundings and the sound of the quiet rain filtering through the thick trees. Thoughts ran faster through his mind, he trying to make sense of the situation at hand.

He had so many questions and wanted to ask them, to get some type of answers; but the more he tried to voice his fear and confusion, the more his voice just didn't want to work. He tried several times, but the only sounds that were whispered between them was that of the low hum of the still evident insects and the wind's cry, growing stronger the further they walked.

Al glanced down at his working arm, feeling suddenly guilty as the damaged one hung limply in it. He was actually shocked the thing hadn't been smashed to pieces due to the ferocity of Kania's blows. He had several cracks politely positioned all across his armor, the guilt rising.

_Great, just one more thing brother's going to have to fix, if he still can that is…_

Fear gripped him at his last thought. He didn't know where it had come from or why it had occurred, but the more he trained himself on it, the worse the feeling was getting. What if Ed had gotten himself into more trouble than he thought? What if it was something he couldn't get out of?

_Stop it! Brother might not be the brightest person, but he isn't stupid either! He wouldn't get himself into a situation he couldn't find a way out of…could he? No, he wouldn't. He wouldn't,_ he told himself, though only half believing it. There was a feeling nagging at him that he couldn't quite place, and the longer they walked, the worse it got.

_That's it, I know it. Brother's gotten himself into trouble. I've got to find him!_

His steps quickened, placing him side by side Kania. There were still too many things he didn't know, but one thing he was sure of was that he couldn't quite put his trust in this person, his soul hidden in a hallow shell or not, there was still something about him that was odd; off.

Al didn't like the fact that he had absolutely no clue as to where he was actually going, or if it was to a real house or not. Strategies and plans started to form in his head, he needed a back-up or an alternative if anything were to happen. Although, going through with anything would be slightly difficult due to the minor handicap he was stuck with.

"You know, I've been wondering something," he began, knowing the only way he could get anywhere was with conversation. "And I'm sure you're faced with the same problem as well. See, the thing is, I'm trying to figure out how my blood seal didn't wash away. Brother told me that if even the slightest amount of water touches it, there was the possibility that it would wash away, basically killing me in the process. But I fell into the water, and I know it was deep, so how did I survive?" he wondered aloud, hoping to catch Kania's interest.

There was silence for a moment before the other suit of armor emanated a response. "I pulled you out before it could," he replied simply, though his voice held something in it, something Alphonse couldn't quite figure out.

"But why would you do something like that, if you were just trying to kill me earlier? Why wouldn't you have just let me go?" he asked, confusion dripping from his tone. "I'm sorry if it sounds bad, but I don't understand."

"Because I was told not to," Kania answered, continuing to delve deeper into the thick path of branches and bushes.

"Your mother?" Al asked, a sad note in his voice. Thoughts of his own spiraled through his mind, nostalgia getting the better of him. His pace slowed slightly, he almost getting lost in his own little world.

"Yes," came the one-worded response from the person Al still considered to be a stranger. Even if he could identify with him, he still in all actuality knew hardly anything about him, or at least, who he was now. The only qualities he had been graced with so far were Kania's murderous tendencies, and his quietness. He still had no idea what he was capable of, and that scared him all the more.

"So…she's the one who put you in there?" he asked without truly thinking, immediately regretting it. He had his own thoughts as to why Edward had saved him, but since he never knew anyone else that was like him, he didn't know what their reaction would be to a question like that. "She's an alchemist as well?"

"In response to both of your questions, yes. She was the one who taught me everything I knew," he stated, a faint frailness edging through his tone. He sounded almost sad in a way, regretful.

Another questioned ran through Al's mind, he almost too afraid to ask it. "Forgive me for the-"

"My father," Kania replied bluntly, anger now threatening his tone. "She gave up my father," he answered completely, stepping onto a narrow dirt road, obviously the one that led to his house.

That was not the answer Alphonse was expecting, not in the least. He spoke once more, though his voice did give a hint of a tremble. "But the bartender said that he had passed away sometime later…after you supposedly did." The fear that was in his soul was rising, and he could swear that he caught his armor quivering, something he definitely wasn't accustomed to.

"Well, if sometime later means a couple of hours, then I guess he was telling the truth. We're here," he announced, a small cottage coming into view. He was about to take another step when he stopped suddenly, something apparently startling him or catching his eye.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Alphonse asked, stepping up behind him, careful not to make any noise due to the sudden silence. The last thing he needed was their armor clanking together to cause some sort of commotion.

"It's nothing. Come on, let's go," he responded, quietly leading the way up to the house, leaving Al with a sinking feeling that something was just bound to go wrong, if it already wasn't.

&&&&&

His head swam momentarily even though his eyes were closed. It felt like gravity was trying to defy him and throw him against one of the nearby walls. Or perhaps a better description would be that it felt as if his brains were turning to mush, either way, it wasn't pleasant.

Indistinct voices meddled through his head, running in and out of his hearing. The twelve year old could just make out the old woman's, then a male's voice, then another male's which sounded vaguely familiar. _What are they talking about?_, he wondered, trying desperately to listen to their conversation, though the ache that was resounding in his head was vying for control.

Everything on him ached, even his teeth from gritting them so hard. His right shoulder was killing him as well as his left leg, the joints where everything was connected feeling as if it were on fire, then dulling momentarily and going right back to paining him again. His energy had drained to practically nothing in minutes, a fever working on him.

He heard the voice once more, and after much forcing himself back into full consciousness, he opened his eyes just enough to go undetected for the time being. He saw three persons; one being the old woman's, the other two middle-aged looking men. The one that was doing most of the speaking had his back turned to him, but there was still something about him that he knew.

"They're on their way right now," the man stated hurriedly, his body obviously tense from fear or worry.

"And how do you know this?" the old woman questioned, an icy chill to her tone as well as her eyes.

"Because they came in Lydia, and they didn't look too happy either. We've got to do something! We came here as fast as we could, but they're the military so there's no telling what they're up to," he explained, running a shaking hand through his graying hair. That's when it clicked.

_That's the bartender_, the thought circulated through Edward's tired mind. _What the hell is going on here? He's in on it too? But if they know…Wait, military? _A part of him felt slight excitement for this, but when he heard the rest of what the man had to say, second thoughts crossed his mind.

"I gave them the wrong directions. I told them to go a few miles upstream and they went from there; but I think the man knew I was lying…," his voice trailed off, definite traces of fear running through it. "It's only a matter of time before they're here. I know it."

"Well then, I guess we'll just have to speed up the process then, won't we?" she quipped bitterly, her voice stinging all those who heard. "I want the both of you to go retrieve Kania, and if that other distraction is still around, get rid of it. The last thing we need is another one of _those _around."

Just hearing that statement riled the State alchemist, his small fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. _Another one of those? I'll show that witch…_

"Yes, Miss LaShea," the two men answered in unison and headed for the door, but before they could exit, it was opened from the outside, two suits of armor standing in the doorway.

"Kania, you're just in time, sweetheart…," her voice stopped suddenly upon realizing the boy wasn't alone. "I thought we discussed this already," she stated, her voice as cold as ice. It was suffice to say that the perfect mother act was beginning to wear thin, which frightened Edward all the more.

_Discussed what?_, Edward thought, trying to lift his head up without being spotted so he could catch a glimpse of who was at the door, unfortunately for him, no matter what position he was in, he still couldn't see them. Dizziness impacted his skull with each try, rendering his attempts useless. But something was going down, he was sure of it. He just wanted to know what, and lying on the floor with six chains cuffed to him was making that slightly difficult.

"We need to talk," Kania replied. "_Alone_," he emphasized the word, glancing at the bartender and the other man.

"Very well then. Jonathan, Laine, keep watch outside. We don't want _any _interference. Do you understand?" she commanded, the too perfect grin washing over her features like cold water. Her eyes were gleaming again, Edward was sure of it. "And take _him _with you," she added, the smile still set in place as she nodded at Alphonse.

"I want him to stay," Kania interjected, placing a heavy gauntlet in front of Al's chest plate, quite defensively at that.

"But you just said you wanted to speak alone with me, so which is it, my son?" she questioned through the grin, her teeth likely gritting in the process. The anger was there, just not as evident as it was meant to be.

_Who? Wait, is that Alphonse? Al?_ Without thinking, he opened his mouth, in a typical Edward-like fashion. "Al!" he tried, though what came out couldn't even be deemed audible. He knew his throat was sore, just not as bad as it sounded, so he tried again and again. "Al! Alphonse! Al!" he cried out, his voice weaving in and out of his hearing. This was bad. If he couldn't get Al's attention, and she did succeed in getting rid of him-- "Al!" he tried once again, this time managing to attract some sort of attention to himself.

The voice made its way into Al's hearing, confusion striking him for the umpteenth time that day. _Was that…?_ "Brother?" he asked, peering over Kania's bulky shoulder. In the corner of the house, he could see a patch of golden hair amidst the din of the dark room. "Brother!" he shouted, nearly pushing Kania out of the way to get towards Ed; but before he could, blue light erupted before him, knocking him back into the wall. It took him a moment to regain his footing, finally seeing the cause of it kneeling before him.

Lydia LaShea was on the floor before him, approximately ten feet away, a scowl distorting her wooden features, strands of graying hair dangling in her face. Her emerald orbs locked onto Al's soul-filled ones, and for the first time since he had acquired his metal body, he actually was unsure whether or not he'd make it out alive.

"No! Al!" Edward breathed, tears in his eyes. He yanked at the chains once more, even though subconsciously he knew he couldn't get out of them. It was almost as if he was trapped in a nightmare with no way out. The thought made him shudder, yet try harder, determination settling in his eyes. "Al, she's going to--" His words were cut off as she turned towards him, blue light flashing again, the chains growing tighter. It felt as though his limbs were being torn apart by the seams, forcing a cry to escape his lips.

"Brother!" Al exclaimed, his single arm reaching out absentmindedly for his older sibling, the other one falling lifelessly to the floor. "Uh…oops," he muttered, inwardly chiding himself for being so clumsy in front of everyone, especially the old woman who apparently fed off others weaknesses.

"Al!" Edward's tiny voice came from across the room, guilt and pain flooding through it as soon as he saw the piece of armor hit the floor. Doubt gently ran through him, reminding him ever so presently that he--that they both were in fact still children, and would be for quite some time, if they lived that long.

"My son, you've done better than I thought you would; but I don't understand, why didn't you finish what you started?" she questioned, slowly standing to her feet, swaying a bit as she reached full height.

"Mother, it's not my place," he answered, the long lifeless emerald eyes staring at her from the face plate.

"You're right, it's mine," she cut in quickly, turning towards Alphonse, the grin growing wider, showcasing the imperfect teeth that littered her mouth. "Don't worry, child. This won't take long, and I'm sure you won't feel a thing. You didn't when you entered the gate the first time, now did you?" Before any of them knew it, she was down on her knees once again, blue light literally flaring from her fingertips.

But the suit of armor was quicker than she anticipated and moved out of the way, nearer to his brother. He had the lower hand any way he looked at it. This woman could produce alchemy without the use of a transmutation circle; and on top of that, she had both her arms. He, in fact, had neither one on his side, leaving only brute strength in his pocket. Yet what good would brute strength be if she could just use her alchemy to block it or hide from it? Either way, this was not a fight he would be walking away from any time soon, but he knew he needed to think fast. It would be they're only way out of there.

"Al!" Edward cried out again, evidently in pain. He raised his head up slightly, trying desperately to see his younger brother, though his vision tried more than once to fail him. "Al, be careful, she's got the stone and she's going to try and use it on--Ah!" he screamed again as the chains once again got tighter, his body literally being stretched to its limits. "On me!" he finished, doing his best to keep the attention on himself rather than his little brother.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was being reminded of the fact as to why they were searching for the stone in the first place, and that in itself made him want to suffer. It wasn't Al's fault, it was his and his alone. He wanted--no, he needed this, to suffer for what he had done. Nothing could ever make him forget, let alone forgive himself. This was just a tap on the wrist compared to what he truly deserved, at least, that's what he kept telling himself.

"Shut up!" the old woman screamed, her voice as shrill as a banshee's cry. "Shut up! Shut up, you little brat!" She was suddenly still for a moment, her perfect smile cast downwards in one of the most hatred-filled glares Edward had ever seen in his short twelve year life. His mother never even looked that mad when he transmuted one of her favorite plates into a cracked and misshapen vase. But then again, his mother wasn't insane either.

"She's going to try to use the stone to put his soul into my body!" he blurted out as quickly as he could, ignoring the searing pain that was shooting through his arms and legs. Every time he spoke, it felt as though needles were stabbing him, one at a time. He didn't know how much more he could take. Adrenaline only took you so far…

Shock electrocuted Al's system as his brother's words befell his hearing. He immediately turned to Kania who had been still the whole time in the doorway. "You knew about this? You knew about this and didn't tell me," he repeated, though in a statement form rather than with a question. The one-armed suit of armor was hesitantly still, feeling anger bubble through his soul. No one messed with his brother like that. No one.

"You talk far too much," Lydia whispered, her tone so cold that ice could have spewed from her mouth. She walked very slowly, almost crookedly towards the State alchemist, her right leg not in sync with her left one. She bent down quickly, sliding off one of her rings and holding to his mouth, blue light evaporating from her hands. "There," she smiled as she looked at her handiwork, a metal plate now covering Edward's mouth, preventing him from speaking for the time being. "No more interruptions," the words slid from her crimson colored lips as she placed her hand on the blonde's cheek once again.

He didn't even flinch when he felt the nails dig in and peel the skin off his cheek. He could only hear Alphonse scream something at him, but it faded into the background of his mind, along with his own voice. Things weren't looking good. The thought of death slowly crept through his brain, forcing the tears out of his eyes. And he couldn't stop them no matter how hard he tried. He felt like a helpless child, with no hope of getting away. It was over with.

"Leave my brother alone!" Al yelled, picking his arm up and hurling it at the woman. It knocked her straight across the face, a look of shock and terror finding its way to her eyes.

"Mother!" Kania shouted, raising his voice for the first time since Al had heard him speak. There were so many emotions implanted within it that it was hard to tell what he was truly feeling. Anger mixed with hate; fear mixed with pain; longing mixed with sadness, they were all present, Al just wasn't sure which one was the dominant factor behind the rest.

The older woman stood there in silence, her face still turned to the side from the force the arm had when it knocked into her. Blood was more than trickling out of the wound that ran from her left eyebrow down to her mouth. The gaping cut was jagged, flared up, the skin around it raised and already turning a slight shade of yellow. It was disgusting to say the least, and the sight would have made Edward vomit if his mouth was plastered shut.

The five second silence that ensued was broken, the old woman bursting into a fit of laughter, deep and almost guttural. Blood poured from her mouth and a few teeth fell out as well, though she continued with the eerie cackle, her gaunt body shaking from the force. It soon became higher, more shrill, her emerald eyes flaring with deviousness. Her obvious insanity was in full swing, and from the looks of things, were only going to get worse within the passing minutes.

"Is that all you can do?" she asked, her laughter slowly residing, though the craziness was overly apparent in her bright green orbs. "It is, isn't it?" she questioned once more, basically answering her own question. "Such a foolish child you are," the insult came, the toothy grin stretched across her face, the firelight making her look even more deranged and mentally deficient, the dark circles under her eyes multiplying a plenty. "Say good-bye to your brother," she whispered, pulling the red stone from her pocket, her hands strangely unsteady.

"You're not going to do anything to my brother!" Alphonse shouted, anger smoldering in his tone. His gloved hand was clenched at his side, his soul-filled eyes giving off the emotion that was snaking through his soul.

Edward tried as hard as he could to scream something, all the while knowing the effort would be fruitless, but he tried anyway. Tears streamed down his flushed cheeks, the saltine substance mixing in with the blood that was still oozing from the thin lines that had been etched across his face. He was shaking violently, the chains rattling continuously, catching the old woman's hearing. She turned towards him, her grey hair completely free of the small leather strap that it had been confined in.

"Don't worry now, it won't be long," she cooed, Edward cringing at the sound of her blood hitting the floor. The wound appeared to be bleeding worse than what it had been, an apparent sign that her heart beat was rising, and more than likely, her insanity level as well.

All fell silent for a second time as three shots rang out through the tension-filled air, sounding as though they were almost right outside the door. It didn't take long for two more figures to make their way into the small home, decorated in all out military attire.

For the first time since he'd been there, Edward felt hope singe through his heart as Mustang's and Hawkeye's faces made their way into his stumbling vision, his eyes lighting up at their arrival.

The older woman stood still, striking a pose almost like a frightened wild animal. Her eyes were bulging, appearing as though they could fall out of her sockets at any minute. She too was shaking violently, the red stone looking as though it could fall out of her hand at any time. Though in as little time as took for her to attain that position, it too faded as her strong front cast itself back over her features, the grin slowly sliding back into place, though this time, there was blood polluting it.

"Well, look, Kania, we have guests," she said in a most hospitable voice, her body becoming completely still. "Why don't you make yourselves at home," the older woman grinned, gaps in her now imperfect smile where her decaying teeth should have been.

"Lydia LaShea, you are under arrest for the criminal misuse of alchemy-" Lieutenant Hawkeye began, gun steady in her hands, only to be cut off by the clearly insane woman.

"Do you think that little piece of metal scares me?" she scoffed, her eyes gleaming wildly. "So what they say _is _true, the military has fallen into a shambles. Perhaps it _is _a good thing you didn't apply, son," she stated, turning towards the stoic suit of armor that had remained still once again, its green eyes glowering. "But then again, you would have been the most intelligent of all their dogs," she gave the insult, returning her crazed glare in the direction of Mustang who appeared to not be amused in the least.

"I highly doubt that," the onyx-eyed man retorted, his trademark smirk threatening the corners of his mouth. He stood perfectly still, his back straight, his chest forward, looking almost as if he was standing at attention, though in all actuality, he just wanted to look presentable; or foreboding, the thought shot around Edward's mind. "I see you're quite the talented alchemist, Miss LaShea," he continued as though this were nothing but a polite conversation held at a causal luncheon.

"You can omit the pleasantries, Lieutenant," she stated crisply, blood matting her brittle hair. "But I do accept the compliment," the older woman added slyly, such coyness to her tone that it almost made Mustang sick. "However, they will get you no where here," she stated bitterly, dropping down to her knees, electric blue light appearing again, flooding straight towards the Lieutenant Colonel and his assistant.

The reaction was quick, the poorly constructed wall that appeared in front of them was disintegrated with a snap of Mustang's fingers, the firelight lighting up his eyes as well, though with more of a mischievous air.

"You must be exhausted," he stated calmly as he regained his composure, his eyes trained on her slightly shaking body and her disheveled appearance. "After making that contraption," he said, nodding towards the now angry looking Edward, metal piece still affixed to his mouth and all. "Hell, I think any one would be," he noted, his voice as causal as it was before, he obviously trying to retain the air of coolness that surrounded him.

She gave a grunt in response and tried again, Mustang proving to be quite the distraction. She didn't even notice Alphonse making his way over to his brother or the gasp that escaped his armor when he saw the entire contraption his brother had been set in. Instead, she continued sending one array after another at the Flame alchemist, all being rejected as well. The older woman gave a cry sending one last shot of blue from her trembling hands, almost all pf her energy being literally sucked right out of her. She fell to her knees, breathless. "Kania…get them," she managed out while trying to suck as much air in to her lungs as possible, pointing to Mustang and Hawkeye, her wild eyes finally catching the sight that was happening behind her. "No!" she cried out, crawling over to the transmutation circle, her right leg dragging behind her miserably.

"Mother!" Kania yelled, rushing over to her. "Mother, no! Stop this!" he shouted, his metal suit clanking uncomfortably as he landed on his knees at her side. "Just stop, we'll find another way!" His tone was pained, and if he could cry, surely tears would have been falling down his cheeks.

"No! I will not!" she screamed, tears haunting her sunken face. "You deserve to be whole once again! You deserve to be my little boy! Flesh and blood, not some putrid piece of metal that cannot feel anything!" she screeched, her nails digging into the floor as she drew nearer to the circle where Edward was still franticly impatient at Al's ability to only have removed two of the stakes.

"Mother, this is not the way! It's not right! Please just listen to me for once!" his voice broke as he held onto her now by the waist, his strength easily outweighing hers. "These boys don't deserve this," he whispered, his voice deathly serious in her ears.

"And neither do you! I'm sorry, Kania! I'm sorry!" she screamed, still clawing madly at the floor, the red stone dropping out of her hands in the process and rolling onto the edge of the circle. A faint light started to emit from it, glowing in the darkness of the shadow of the firelight. "I'm putting you back to the way you used to be," she stated, attempting to place her hands within the circle, now only inches from it. "Please forgive me, my son," she whispered, hardly sounding like the crazed animal she had before. She reached out for the circle just as a wall of flames engulfed the both of them, the circle lighting up bright red as well at the same time.

Smoke covered the entire room as silence fell upon it, leaving the Lieutenant Colonel and his First Lieutenant waiting for it all to clear. They weren't prepared for what met their eyes.

**Author's note : Am I cruel or what? Judging by the cliff, I think I am. :D **

**Firstly, I just want to say THANK YOU because I never, EVER expected to get sixteen reviews for the last chapter, and I am more than grateful. I'd like to thank the following people for their wonderful reviews : Akamori-chan, Roy-Fan-33, Lyemi, Kuropuu, Aemilia Rose, Ark, hyperdude, marufu-chan, JChrys, Legendary Chimera, vampirelf, Kakari, Harryswoman, Birth of Venus, Uzamaki Kakari, TreeStar, and everyone else who has either put me on their favs page or story alert. The support you all give means a lot to me, and I do hope you enjoyed this chapter. And yes, I am sorry for the evil cliff, but do you guys really mind? Next chapter up soon.**

**Oh, and sorry for the lack of Ed. More angst shall ensue.**


	9. A Season of Melancholy

**Title : Whispers of a Nightmare**

**Genre : Anime/Manga**

**Category : Full Metal Alchemist**

**Disclaimer : Nope, this one belongs to someone else as well. **

**Summary : Takes place after the incident with Nina. Something's wrong with Ed, and Al just can't quite figure out what it is. Serious situations and angst ensue.**

**Warnings : Angst, mild language, violence, and other issues that shall go unnamed for now. I don't want to give away too much of the plot just yet, now do I? ;)**

**Rating : T **

**Chapter 9 : A Season of Melancholy **

There was a smell in the air, a putrid odor that greeted their nostrils as the smoke slowly faded to the ceiling, leaving them in its wake. But the sight-the sight was by far worse than that of the smell, even Hawkeye almost retching at it. She covered her mouth immediately, giving the Lieutenant Colonel an expectant glance.

"Sir?" she asked weakly, a handkerchief hiding her almost white lips, though it couldn't hide the slight trembling that befell her hand.

Roy Mustang was silent, taking in what lay before him in a mix of wonderment and disbelief. He knew the first thing he should do was grab the two boys from the wreckage, but something about the scene paralyzed him for a minute, his vocal cords temporarily out of order. Thoughts of Ishbal chugged through his mind, and for a split second, he felt as if he had returned there.

The air stood completely still as he took a step forward, his boots crunching on the glass of the only window that had been in the place. He took another, his legs trembling a bit. Slowly, he bent down, examining the remains of the two LaShea's, bile rising in the back of his throat.

The quiet provided him with the ability to hear the incoming of the back-up personnel he had requested, though their footfalls quickly faded into the far distance of his mind, the sound of them stopping and gasping in the doorway gently registering.

"Get the Elrics," he ordered, his voice hard but barely audible. When the soldiers continued to gape, the command not sinking in, he repeated it, albeit a little more loudly. "Did you hear what I said? Get them out of here!" he shouted, putting the edge back in his tone. He could hear them move once more, though more slowly and reluctantly than their first approach.

A small swirl of smoke was still swimming about the remains of the mother and son, originating from the middle of the carnage. Blood was scattered about, skin lying sickeningly strewn across the floor, strands of graying hair still attached. A much too skinny and wrinkled finger lay nearby, still twitching slightly, blood caked underneath its half-broken off nail.

Somehow, in some way, the two had melded together, creating a horrific combination. The picture that sat before Mustang was grotesque to say the least but quite sad at the same time. Slightly melted limbs stuck out at crude angles from the armor, the skin seemingly having the same look of plastic. It was utterly disgusting, from the smell of burnt flesh to the emerald eyes that were somehow miraculously still there, implanted in the half of the woman's face that was still left, though they showcased every bit of horror and sorrow Lydia LaShea held.

Roy couldn't help but look into those eyes, feeling as though somehow, there was still life contained in him. The rational side of his brain reminded him that from the looks of things, that couldn't be possible, and just as he was about to listen, the eyes twitched as well; quite erratically, then stopped, just as suddenly as it had started. Mustang jumped in reflex, his mouth opening in confusion, a low grunt escaping his throat.

He froze as the mouth on the woman moved, ever so slightly; even flinching when a faded moan met his ears. A flash of terror filled his eyes, and later on he would probably recall that his heart had skipped a beat; but at the present time, his brain was just to jumbled to process that information.

He removed his eyes from the sight, only to look up and find one half of the Elrics staring him dead in the eye. The thirteen year old was oddly quiet, his voice stolen as a result of all the many things that had happened that day. The boy's lips were pursed together, trying his best not to cry.

_Dammit!_, Mustang yelled inwardly, not wanting the poor kid to see the god-awful sight. And the thought came spiraling through his mind of what was worse, seeing this woman and her son mutated into a distorted corpse; or seeing the sight of the failed transmutation that he had performed on his mother. He decided the latter was worse, but this one couldn't be any better.

"What are you all waiting for, dammit! Get them out of here!" he snapped, pushing himself to his feet, his ears catching the low murmur from the eldest Elric brother.

"I'm sorry," the tiny voice floated past his ears, his heart clenching at the sound. But he couldn't feel sorry for him. It wasn't his place to. He was his superior officer, and the boy had to learn discipline from somewhere. And if it was his responsibility, then so be it.

The Lieutenant Colonel watched as tears ran down the blonde's cheeks, knowing that the gashes on his face had to be burning at the mix of iron and saltine in the fresh wounds. Then the thought struck his mind as to how the hell the kid and his brother had actually made it through the ordeal, making him glance at the charred transmutation circle. His onyx eyes came to the spikes, widening slightly as he realized each one had been removed from the circle, apparently in just a nick of time.

His vision slowly wavered back to the remains, something silver shining a few inches away from the mutation. Cautiously, he took a few steps toward it. Bending down to get a closer view, he saw a chain connected to a small locket, the piece of jewelry cracked open slightly. Thankful that he had gloves on, he picked up the intricate little chain, the inside of the once precious ornament revealing to him a picture of the two LaShea's with an inscription that read, _"To my dearest, Kania. With love, Lydia."_

The thought registered in the back of his mind that quite possibly, maybe he wasn't supposed to be seeing this, or knowing the secret the thing held inside of it. He carefully put it back where he found it and stood to his feet. Without a second thought, he picked up Al's arm and made his way to the door. Turning his back, he snapped his fingers, letting whatever other secrets the house contained die with it, knowing it was for the best. Now it would be time to pick up the pieces, something he was definitely not looking forward to. At all.

&&&&&

_Two weeks later_

"What do you mean you're not going to send me on any more missions?" Edward Elric's voice flew through the air, straight into the Lieutenant Colonel's already sore ears. "That's not fair and you know it!" he exclaimed, slamming his fists into Mustang's over-crowded desk, paper work flying off and falling to the floor.

"I don't see how it isn't," Mustang replied coolly, his hands folded underneath his chin, his elbows balancing on the mahogany colored wood. "What you did was completely uncalled for, and your actions reflect on your character. And I think that you're character needs to be closely monitored, instead of being given the privilege of just frolicking off somewhere in hopes of finding the stone."

"I didn't join the military to earn some pathetic desk job so I could sit on my ass all day and fiddle around! I joined the military-"

"To get you and your brother back to normal. Yes, Edward, I know the story very well judging I've heard it a million times. But after your last escapade, I feel that it would be wrong of me to send you out on another mission so soon. Besides, you're not even fully healed," he stated, raising an eyebrow at the bandages on the boy's wrist and face.

"I'm just fine, dammit! And I don't need some lazy two-bit, half-wit Colonel--excuse me, _Lieutenant _Colonel babysitting me!" his voice rose, growing louder and louder, enough for Hawkeye to peer into the room.

Mustang waved her away, trying not to let the boy crawl underneath his skin as he had become so good at as of late. But he knew it would more than likely be inevitable, feeling the muscles in his legs start to twitch.

"You'll be assigned to cases here in Central for the time being, and that's final. You're excused," Mustang stated with a wave of the hand, his other reluctantly finding its way to the pile of paperwork that was starting to consume his much cherished desk.

The boy stood there with a look of fierce determination and anger fighting a battle over his features, the anger starting to edge its way ahead. "I will not just stand around like an idiot and let this go! That woman had a genuine stone! An authentic Philosopher's Stone, and I saw what it did to her! I need to know where it came from! And who the doctor was that gave it to her! If I can just find out his name, then just maybe…" his voice trailed off, the fierce determination expression taking the lead.

"How many times do I have to repeat it, Edward? You're staying here, and that's final!" the Lieutenant Colonel's voice finally raised in volume, just the thought of Edward pushing the right button pissing him off even more.

"But you said-"

"I said military first, the stone second and you know that! You agreed to those terms, Edward, or have you become a liar? Or is it quite possible that you already are one?" he suggested, his deep voice wallowing in sarcasm. He was standing now, both hands out in front of him, flat against the desktop.

"I'm the liar?" Edward threatened, an air of mischief in his tone. "I think it's the other way around Colonel Hypocrite!" he exclaimed, watery saltine rushing to his tear ducts. "We were so close…," he whispered, his voice shaking slightly. "And you just want to take it away! What, are you jealous or something? Feeling bad because a twelve year old can do a better job than you?" he yelled, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

That did it.

"A better job than me, huh?" he questioned, more to himself than Edward. "You almost got yourself killed back there! You _and _your brother!" he shouted, unable to control the volume of his voice. He walked over to the miniature time bomb, his onyx eyes dancing wildly. "You deliberately disobeyed my orders and took your own initiative, leading you and Alphonse into a situation that you couldn't get out of! You put the both of you at risk and almost became some insane woman's son! Did you think that that was just a child's drawing on the floor underneath you?"

"No-"

"No, of course it wasn't! It was one of the most intricate arrays that I've ever laid eyes on and you managed to get yourself right in the middle of it!" the tirade of words continued to tumble out of the Lieutenant Colonel's mouth, anger flashing madly through his eyes. "And if it wasn't for your brother getting you out of those chains, then you would have been a part of that mess too!"

Edward stood there in silence, unable to meet the piercing gaze his superior officer was giving him. He could feel his lips start to quiver, the outcry of tears just milliseconds away. The twelve year old tried his best to steady himself, but the more he tried, the worse it got. Emotions were streaming through his blood system faster than he could distinguish them, his eyes echoing its attempts. His jaw was clamped shut, his teeth grinding furiously against one another.

"You will report to my office tomorrow morning at ten o'clock sharp to receive your next case. I expect you to be on time and if you're not--well, we'll just have to wait and see, won't we?" he queried, a slight but noticeable smirk spreading across his features, his voice returned to its normal volume.

The boy said nothing, still couldn't even look the man in the eyes. His golden orbs burned holes into the man's chest, and he turned, without a nod or any type of acknowledgement, and went for the door. Mustang could see the tear hit the floor before the boy made it out of his sight, hearing his footsteps break out into a run a few seconds later. He shook his head, knowing that he had been harsh, but telling himself the kid had to grow up one of these days. And unfortunately, he was the one stuck with the duty, much to his dismay. He sat down at the desk, a blank stare falling upon the skyscrapers of papers.

&&&&&

His heavy black boots pounded on the wooden floors, descending down each flight of steps in a hurry, almost tumbling down a few due to his short strides and automail. He still wasn't quite used to it yet, and it showed too.

Edward was out of breath by the time he had made it down the last flight of steps and out into the brisk fall air. The sky held a grayish color that apparently was going to stick around for quite awhile, as it had a tendency to do. He shivered, recalling that his red jacket was lying in the dorm room he and Al shared on the third floor of HQ.

He shook his head, knowing that he truly didn't want to go anywhere, but he had to get out of there. If he had stayed any longer, the Lieutenant Colonel would have seen his tear-streaked face, and how seemingly pathetic and childish he looked, and he in no way, shape or form wanted that. He wanted to look strong and capable, exactly the opposite of what he was at the current moment.

His golden bangs drifted into his sullen face, hiding the paleness his skin had started to possess. In the past two weeks, he'd been in and out of the infirmary for one thing or another, and had even been forced to stay there the first two days he came back, against his will, of course. Mustang still hadn't even allowed him back into his office until that very day, which pissed him off all the more. And now he was being told he couldn't even leave the city? He had too many things to do to actually listen to that know-it-all Mustang.

He could feel the tears continue to slide down his cheeks, angrily wiping them away with his automail hand, it brushing against the scratches that had just started fading to scars. He took in an involuntary gulp of air, his lungs hungrily consuming it. The twelve year old was more than embarrassed standing in front of the military's headquarters with a red and tear-stained face, but for some reason, his legs refused to listen to him, his brain whisking him away to another time.

His fingers gently ran down his cheek bone, which had become more prominent as well in the time since his encounter with the LaShea's. The scars were turning from the dark red color of blood, to a faded pink, more than likely becoming permanent, just not as noticeable. He could feel his hand start to shake as pictures came flooding back into his vision, especially those of the woman's bright emerald green eyes, and that too perfect grin. But then, the picture changed, transmuted into that of a flesh and metal blob with arms and legs sticking out of odd places and blood all over the place.

The smell hit him faster than he could stop it, the rancid odor burning his lungs and electrocuting his nostrils. It was the smell of charred flesh and burnt metal. He immediately doubled over, the tea he'd consumed before going into Mustang's office spilling out of his mouth and onto the concrete below. He spit up as much of the bile he could, reluctantly swallowing the taste back down.

He stood up slowly but dizziness still conquered his head, causing him to stumble back against the nearest wall for support. His whole body was trembling; shaking. His vision swam before his eyes, colors swirling around him like a tornado. He leaned back, letting the chilly air brush against his clammy skin. He tried to recall the last thing he had ate, a piece of bread coming to mind. And that was a few days ago…

His stomach clenched, apparently from being empty for so long. He let a quiet gasp, his hand immediately flying to the pained area. He stayed in that position for a good fifteen minutes, trying to ignore the few curious stares that were thrown his way. Hesitantly, he stood to his feet, his legs still shaking slightly beneath him.

"Hey, Edward, what are you doing down there?" a familiar voice met his ears.

The blonde turned slowly, his eyes meeting those of Lieutenant Maes Hughes. His brow narrowed a bit, hoping that the hazel eyed man wouldn't pry any further than a casual _"Oh. Okay, bye then," _and be on his way. But knowing his luck, it wouldn't end with just that. "Just getting some air. It gets kind of stuffy in there, you know?" he replied, a fake grin plastered on his face, the thought of _Please just go away_, floating through his head.

"Yeah, happens to me all the time. But this usually cheers me right up," he said brightening, holding out a picture of his daughter, his tone raising higher. "Isn't she just the cutest thing you've ever seen? In fact, just the other day, she sat up by herself for the first time, and went the entire night without even so much as a peep. I swear she's an angel," he gushed, the picture clenched tightly in his hands, a wide grin bringing up the corners of his mouth. Within a few minutes, the expression faded, turning serious once again. "You know, Edward, if you ever need to talk, I'm here. If there's something bothering you-"

"I'm fine," the twelve year old interjected, more harshly than he intended. "I'm sorry," he apologized, his head hanging, strands of golden hair hanging in his face. His stomach started to ache again, a faint grimace making its way onto his features.

Hughes stood there for a moment, sliding his hands causally into his pockets, a look of concern hidden behind his eyes. "So he told you the bad news?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, giving the blonde a sideways glance.

Edward's brow narrowed even more, his heart starting to race at just the thought of the Lieutenant Colonel. He was silent, a pout crossing his lips. He folded his arms across his chest, the pain in his stomach growing.

"He has his reasons, Ed. And he's not doing it to punish you," he stated in a knowingly tone, his gaze resting on the hot-headed kid, the concern starting to appear.

"Then what's he doing it for?" the exclamation poured from the boy's lips, his jaw clenching. "Just to piss me off? Because if that was his mission, he succeeded," he muttered, admitting defeat, a scowl coming over his face.

A faint smile touched the Lieutenant's lips, holding in a laugh. "Trust me, that's not one of his reasons," he answered, looking down at the angry young man. His brow narrowed as well, worry snaking its way through his veins. "How about we go grab something to eat? I'm starving and it's way past lunch," he stated, trying to lighten the mood. His eyes fell upon the boy's hollowing face and the dark circles under his eyes, then slipped to the over shirt that seemed much larger on him that it had before.

"I'm not really hungry," he replied, his gaze drifting to the park across the street. The wind was rushing through the trees, the sound making its way to his ears. At that moment, he realized why he had come out there in the first place, letting his brow ease and a casualness take over his tone. "In fact, I think I'm gonna go for a walk," he stated, starting to walk away.

Maes felt his heart sink, knowing obviously something was troubling the boy. But he knew better than to press the matter. The kid was stubborn, and the more he'd pry, the less information he'd get. He knew how the game ran, after all, it was part of his job. "Alright, well, just remember what I said," he smiled, placing a hand on Edward's bony shoulder, his heart falling downcast. "Oh, I almost forgot. Gracia's birthday is tomorrow and I'm throwing a party, inviting a bunch of people from here. Would you and Al like to come?" he asked with his trademark smile.

Edward stopped, knowing he couldn't say no. "Um, yeah, sure, what time?" His voice was tired, thin, and obviously weary. He held the smile in place, knowing that it could slip off at any second.

"Five o'clock. Don't be late," he grinned, hating the fake smile that pursued his lips. "Bye now," he waved, knowing a little talk with Roy would come to pass in the near future.

Edward watched him disappear through the main doors, relief easing through his tense body. The wind rushed passed him once again, the urge to run hitting his nerves. Thoughts of Al traveled through his brain, knowing that he was hidden safely away in the library with books to keep him company for the rest of the afternoon. Besides, he didn't expect Ed to be back so soon, thinking his older brother was in for a full day of work, but judging that that wasn't the case anymore…

_Just for a little while. And I could use the exercise…_

He pushed himself forward, not even bothering to jog. The twelve year old broke out into a full run, his hair sailing behind him. Memories of youth started to play through his mind, images of he, Al, and Winry flashing vividly in his eyes. Heaviness weighed on his heart, for he knew that no matter how badly he wanted to return to that time, it would never happen.

He missed his brother. His _whole _brother. Gone were the days of childish pranks and river runs. There were no more home cooked meals, no more laughing and giggling about townspeople or what they learned in school. There were no more games to played, or rainy days filled with many a cup of hot cocoa.

All this pushed him to go faster and harder. He could almost hear his blood traveling through his veins, pumping his heart, forcing it to beat faster and faster. He could hear it pounding in his ears, letting him know that he was still very much alive and kicking, or running for that matter.

The images became his fuel. They projected him, his legs moving so fast he was sure to fall flat on his face at any second. But he didn't, thankfully. He continued, feeling the sweat build on his face and stream down his cheeks, then feel the breeze blow past and cool him down.

He didn't know how far he'd ran until he reached the outskirts of Central, farm houses and worn train tracks coming into view. He stopped suddenly, realizing he'd gone a bit too far.

"Great," he mumbled breathlessly, bending over with his hands on his knees, trying desperately to catch his breath. "If Lieutenant Colonel Jackass catches me out here, I'm as good as dead."

The cool wind whirled around him, Al's voice of _"Brother, you're going to get sick. You remember the last time, don't you? And the time before that?"_

He immediately felt bad once again, already recalling how awful he had felt when he realized Al's arm had been knocked off. Sure, he'd been able to fix it, but just knowing that his little brother had gotten himself into a position where he could have gotten killed hit him like a ton of bricks.

He wasn't doing his job as a big brother. Even if Al was slightly larger than him, being a six foot-plus tall suit of armor and all, he still wasn't taking care of him as he'd promised. His heart continued to spiral as more and more guilt was placed on top of it.

And he had been so close, his fingers almost touching it. He saw the red light it gave off, he could feel its power however faint it might have been, but it was still there and that was all that mattered. He'd been so damned close to getting Al his body back; and he'd lost it, just like that, the opportunity was stolen from him and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

But, maybe there was. Maybe, just maybe…Could he get away with it though? Was there a chance he and Al could sneak away from Central undetected? If he wanted the stone that badly, it would just be another risk he'd have to take. Especially if it meant getting his little brother back his body. And making some type of atonement for the sins he had committed and the promises he had broken.

All those faces that had been haunting him swam across his vision, their voices blending together, creating the faintest trace of a nightmare. He just hadn't gone to sleep yet.

**Author's note : Not really much action, at least it wasn't a cliff, right? I really want to thank each and every one of you again for your support and reviews. I think I reread them just about every day. So I'd just like to thank Lyemi, Aemilia Rose, Ark, Roy-Fan-33, JChrys, Legendary Chimera, marufu-chan, Akamori-Chan, Kuropuu, vampirelf, BlackFire-Dog, TreeStar, TO, Child of a Pineapple, Harryswoman, WrathsChibi, agent000, and every single one of you who has me on an alert or has left a review for previous chapters. Seriously, thank you guys so much for all of your kind words.**

**Hopefully, this chapter will suffice. And the Ed-angst will kick into utterly full gear, and there will be plenty more action. So, let me know. Good, bad? Whichever. **

**P.S. If the locket part confused you, PM me or ask in a review and I'll send a response.**

**Haunted Obsidian**


	10. Race of the Shadows

**Title : Whispers of a Nightmare**

**Genre : Anime/Manga**

**Category : Full Metal Alchemist**

**Disclaimer : Nope, this one belongs to someone else as well. **

**Summary : Takes place after the incident with Nina. Something's wrong with Ed, and Al just can't quite figure out what it is. Serious situations and angst ensue.**

**Warnings : Angst, mild language, violence, and other issues that shall go unnamed for now. I don't want to give away too much of the plot just yet, now do I? ;)**

**Rating : T **

**Chapter 10 : Race of the Shadows**

Night had slowly eased over the city, the stars shining faintly above between the patches of grey clouds that drifted over Central. Street lights and lamps from houses shown through the windows, creating an eerie glow that cascaded over the sidewalks, giving just enough light for a certain Lieutenant Colonel and his best friend of quite a few years to find their way into the bar that rested comfortably between their two separate destinations.

Their footfalls echoed effortlessly on the concrete below, making their way into the dimly lit establishment, thankful the usual crowd had already went home for the night. They took their usual seats at the bar, no words exchanged between them yet, not until they had that first drink. Sounds of a lonely piano drifted lazily through their ears, each one taking a sip from their nearly over-filled glasses.

"We need to talk, Roy," Hughes began, letting the gin and tonic slide down his throat with ease, after many years of the routine. He gave the man that was sitting at his left a sideways glance, the other appropriately noticing that it wasn't one that carried a smile or any trace of happiness. Instead, it held a heaviness to it that only indicated to the onyx eyed man that whatever he was about to say was probably not military related, or at least didn't concern any of the cases they were working on anyway.

"About?" Mustang asked, taking a rather large drink from the now almost empty glass that he held between his hands. His shoulders were hunched slightly, traces of oncoming circles under his eyes decorating his handsome features. Sleep hadn't been his friend for the past few weeks, his mind obviously trained on other things.

"I saw Edward today. He looks bad, Roy, really bad," he stated, his hazel eyes staring into the almost clear liquid in his glass. "I don't think he's ate or slept since he came back from Kiase. Something's really bothering him, and I figured you'd probably have a clue as to what that is," he continued, devoting his full attention the man seated next to him.

Roy raised his eyebrows slightly, taking another gulp before sliding the glass towards the bartender, silently asking for more. "I didn't notice," he spoke casually, that familiar smirk striking up the corners of his mouth as he turned towards Hughes. Seeing the expression on the other man's face made the trademark disappear into a faint frown, even the look in his eyes changing.

"I'm serious, Roy. And giving him that whole little _you're safer here for the time being speech_ got to him too. That's like trying to cage a wild animal," he vocalized, feeling even worse for the twelve year old. "I think you went a little hard on him," he added, his voice softening.

"Ha, hard on him?" the words flew from Mustang's mouth, a hint of disbelief on his face. "Look, Maes, he needs some form of discipline, if not, he'd just be running around and getting himself into even more trouble than he has already. Someone's got to make sure he doesn't get himself killed; or transmuted, for that matter," he added, taking another drink from the glass, a slight buzz rising in the back of his mind.

Hughes gave a noticeable smile at the last bit, but it disappeared once again, more thoughts coming to mind. "Though all that may be true, you have to remember that he's still just a child. And yes, I know," he said, raising a hand at the impending statement about how he signed it all away when he joined the military that was about to spew from Roy's lips. "I know that he's a dog of the military, just like you and me. But he's only twelve, Roy. _Twelve_. A kid that age should have never gotten himself into a position like this," he stated, sadness hiding in his tone, his eyes focused on the almost empty glass on the bar.

"But he did, and now he's trying to find a way to get out of it, but as you and I both know, it's not that easy. It was his decision from the beginning to become a State Alchemist, not mine. He's only getting what he signed up for," the Flame Alchemist affirmed, one hand steady on the glass, the other resting underneath his chin.

"You've changed, Roy," Hughes acknowledged, taking down the last bit of the drink. "The Roy I used to know cared about his subordinates, especially the ones he tracked down in the middle of a lightning storm to recruit," he said, a grin sliding onto his features.

The Lieutenant Colonel looked nothing less than amused, his eyebrows narrowing slightly. "I won't deny the kid has a higher intelligence level than half of the personnel here, but he's reckless. And if he didn't have that little brother of his around, he probably would be dead by now. But it's just too soon to send him out again, and don't tell me it's the wrong decision. After all, I do outrank you," he stated, the smug look fitting back into place.

"True, but _I _outsmart you," he shot back, the grin growing wider. "And I'm not saying I completely disagree with you here," he continued, the smile lessening a bit. "I'm just saying maybe you shouldn't have went off on him like you did. In case you couldn't tell, he is a little on the sensitive side, being _twelve _and all," he added, annoying the man at his side even further by reminding him once more of the older Elric brother's age.

"Believe it or not, Maes, I don't have short term memory loss, despite various rumors," he returned, finishing the drink and standing to his feet, hiding the minute handicap of double vision.

"I beg to differ," Hughes replied, standing up as well, leaving a few coins on the counter. "Now don't forget, tomorrow's Gracia's party, and I expect you to be there. Oh, and bring a date. You never know when you might find yourself a good wife," he added, letting out a laugh at the look of utter madness plastered across the Lieutenant Colonel's face. "Night," he waved as they exited the bar, both heading in opposite directions.

&&&&&

Faint rays of sunlight filtered through the window, gently planting themselves directly on Edward's face. It was almost warm, despite the chilly air that came with it. He opened his eyes, taking note of how strangely comfortable the bed had become. Even the rough sheets and worn out pillowslips he'd managed to acquire. He pulled them closer to his shivering body, the thought of sleeping further drifting through his mind.

He was just about to do so when a familiar scent teased his nostrils, something he hadn't smelled in years. He raised his head up, his golden hair more than out of place and falling politely into his face, though the length of it was different. His heart beat faster at this for some reason, wondering where the rest of it was at. The sudden thought of a cruel joke played out in the back of his mind.

"Al! Just because you don't have any hair doesn't mean you're allowed to cut mine off!" he exclaimed, his voice higher than he remembered it. _Must be mad at me for coming back so late…But that still doesn't give him the right to do this! _he thought angrily, getting out of the bed. "Al, it's not funny!" he shouted once more, becoming slightly annoyed at how much his voice was squeaking.

"What are you talking about, Brother?" Al asked, walking into the room, a confused look on his cherubic face. "I didn't touch your hair," he replied, walking towards him, standing just a little taller than the older boy.

Edward stood frozen, staring at the person that was supposed to be his little brother standing in front of him. His mouth hung open, an expression of utter disbelief and bemusement marking his youthful features. He tried to speak, to say something, but before he could, his body decided to do the talking and he threw his arms around the younger boy, confusion growing stronger on Al's face.

"Al! You're here! You're back! You're you!" he shouted, squeezing the boy tighter until he could hardly breath. "I cant believe it!" he yelled, tears streaming down his face at a steady rate. His words were coming so fast, the ability to breathe almost leaving him.

"Um, that's nice, Brother, but I didn't go anywhere," Al stated, gently pushing his near hysteric brother away. "Are you okay?" he asked, giving him a closer look. "Did you have a bad dream or something?" he added, feeling Ed's forehead.

The look on Edward's face transformed from overjoyed to utterly horrified. He took a better look at the room he was standing in, realizing that this was no military dorm, but in fact their old room from their old house that had been burnt to the ground not too long ago. His face fell even more.

"Brother, what's wrong? Was it that bad? Maybe I should go get Mom. I'll be right back," he said, giving Edward a worried smile.

"No, wait, Al!" the blonde called out, reaching for his brother. He stopped, not hearing the usual metallic noise of metal moving. His gaze slowly wandered from his little brother to his right arm, which was fully intact. His heart leapt, his brain threatening to lock up at any moment. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Was this a dream? Or had the past few years been one gigantic nightmare? Had he imagined everything? Was it all just a figment of a child's overactive imagination?

He hurriedly raised up his pants leg to see that his left leg was definitely there, flesh covered and bruised as it always had been at that time. He blinked a few times, trying to recover from the shock when he heard footsteps once more, two pairs to be exact. His eyes widened as his mother entered the room, a concerned look gracing her delicate features.

"Edward, are you okay?" she asked, kneeling down to his eye level, worry laced throughout her eyes.

All he could do was stare at her, paralyzed once more. Everything hit him at once; her scent, the smell of her hair, her kind face, her gentle voice. It was too much for him causing him to burst into tears, a loud sob escaping his throat.

"Oh, honey," she whispered in his ear, reaching out for him, and pulling him close. There it was, the scent of roses in full bloom with a slight hint of perfume, the aroma of honey flowing gently from her hair. He felt her embrace, and recalled how good it felt to be held by her, especially when he was hurt or scared. But those days had long ago past. This was a memory from another time, and another way of life.

He backed away quickly, his golden eyes traveling back and forth between his so-called mother and brother. It was exactly how he remembered them, and it reminded him of much Al favored her. But it wasn't real. That's what he kept trying to tell himself, even when he glanced over at the calendar with a date of March 1907.

But somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew it was fake. It was too good to be true. More tears trickled down his crestfallen cheeks, his eyes growing more watery. His small hands clenched into tiny fists at his side, anger burning in his chest.

"This isn't real. This isn't real," he kept muttering over and over again, but stopped when whimpering befell his ears. He looked up, golden bangs flying about to see both his mother and brother crying, tears falling down their cheeks as well. Only their tears were not the clear as crystal kind that could be easily wiped away. No, these tears were tears of blood, and they were much thicker and harder to clean up.

"This isn't real. This isn't real," he continued the chant, terror filling his childlike voice. "This isn't real. This isn't real," he repeated, trying not to look at the two figures that had somehow managed to move closer to him. That's when their voices filled his ears and frightened him all the more.

"Why, Edward? Why?" his mother cried out, her now blood-covered hands reaching out for him, forcing the boy to back away. "Why didn't you save me, Edward? This grave is so cold," she whispered, blood leaking faster from her eyes. "It's freezing," the words ran through his jaded head, her hand brushing against his cheek, smearing the crimson colored substance across it. "Why didn't you save me? I bet your father could have…Such a good man," her voice quivered in his ears, angering and terrifying him all the more. "If only you could have been more like your father, then maybe I'd still be here…"

"Stop it! Stop it! This isn't real! You're not real! Just leave me alone!" he screamed, backing all the way into the corner, his hands flying to his ears for cover, though their voices still broke through the tiny barrier.

"And what about me, Brother?" Alphonse's innocent tone sliced through his hearing. "Why did you do this to me, Ed? I could have been happy! We both could have been… But you didn't listen to me. Why didn't you listen to me? You know I had a bad feeling about it, but you told me it would be alright! But it wasn't alright, was it Brother? Was it?" Alphonse screamed, his voice resonating off the walls.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Ed whispered, shaking his head frantically and trying to squeeze further into the limited space the corner provided for him. "Please, just stop…Please," his voice came out in a whisper, his trembling hands still glued to his head. "I'm so sorry…I'm sorry," he continued, tears riveting down his flushed cheeks.

"You cold have saved us, but you failed!" his mother's shrill voice poured through his head. "You failed us! What kind of a son are you? Nothing but a failure! You're nothing like your father! He was so smart and talented, the complete opposite of you!" she yelled, smacking him across the face, blood leaving a jagged trail down his cheeks.

"And Dad wouldn't have let me turn into this," Alphonse whispered, transforming into the metal suit of armor right before Edward's eyes. Only his soul-filled eyes weren't filled with the usual warmth and love they always held. Those emotions were replaced with an icy coldness that sent chills resonating down the young blonde's spine, making him shake even more. "I would still be normal. I'd still be able to breathe and eat and feel things, but I can't anymore, Brother and it's all your fault!" he exclaimed, a gauntlet striking Edward right in the stomach.

"Please…Please forgive me…please…" he murmured, curling up into a tight ball, his brother's fists and his mother's slaps pounding against his small body. "Please…"

"Brother!"

"I'm sorry, Al, I'm so sorry," his voice was hoarse now, his throat almost too sore to speak.

"Brother!"

"Please, forgive me…please…" it trembled, quivering uncontrollably.

"Okay, I forgive you for not coming back until midnight. Now will you wake up?" Al's voice broke through his pleas.

Edward opened his eyes slowly, carefully, and looked around, his brother's metallic suit being the first thing that befell his sight. His eyes darted around the room from the bare walls to the lone window and the faded curtains that surrounded it. He was back in the dorm room, auto mail and all as he glanced down at his still trembling arm. Slowly, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, his hair plastered to his head due to the amount of sweat it was submerged in. His heart was still beating quite loudly, but he pushed the sound away, concentrating on his surroundings.

"Brother, you had another bad dream, didn't you?" Alphonse's tone was as innocent as ever, but the youthfulness that it had held for so long was starting to fade, becoming more adult-like with each passing day.

"I'm fine, Al, just fine," he mumbled, pushing himself to his feet, the chill of the floor hitting his flesh one. "Hey, what time is it?" he asked, running a hand through his saturated hair, an air of dizziness flowing through his skull.

"It's ten thirty, Brother," Alphonse replied, staring at his smaller, older brother. He couldn't quite place it, but Edward looked different somehow. But what was it?

"What?" the blonde exclaimed, his eyes widening at the response. "Ten thirty? Dammit!" he shouted, hurriedly reaching for his clothes. _He's gonna kill me! Dammit!_ He stumbled a bit as he slipped on his pants, his hands shaking as he latched the belt buckle, not even realizing that even the last notch was now too big for him. He slipped on his over shirt, not even bothering to zip it up.

"Why are you in such a rush, Brother? You usually sleep in almost every day," Al noted, curiosity filling him.

"I was supposed to report to Mustang this morning at ten o'clock for a new case," he explained nearly out of breath as he tried redoing his braid but to no avail.

"You want me to do it?" Al asked, reaching out for the comb that had managed to fall to the hardwood floor.

"No, it'll be fine," he said, giving up and letting it hang in a loose ponytail. "Hopefully, I'll be back soon," the twelve year old stated, running for the door.

"Um, Ed, forgetting something?" Al urged, holding up the boy's heavy black boots, not being able to hide the amusement from his voice.

"Oh, yeah, thanks, Al," Edward smiled faintly, quickly pulling on the boots and running out the door. "Be back soon!" he called out before fading out of sight, leaving Alphonse to drown in the worry that had suddenly captured his soul. There was something definitely wrong with his brother, and he was going to find out what the hell it was, before it was too late.

&&&&&

He ignored the shouts of _"Hey kid, watch it!"_ and "_Little brat!"_, and of course the paperwork that was flying about every where. His boots were pounding on the floors of HQ, making his way as fast as he possibly could towards Mustang's office.

Now, he wasn't hurrying because he wanted to see the Lieutenant Colonel, far from it actually. He was still overtly pissed of the lecture he'd been forced to hear the day before; but the last thing he wanted was to look like a spoiled little brat that could get away with whatever he wanted whenever he wanted, even if that were the case sometimes. He knew he had to look like he at least contained some amount of responsibility, even if being on time and receiving the new case were the farthest things from his mind at the current moment.

_Why does he have to have an office at the top? _the thought surged through his mind, his breath leaving his lungs faster than he could catch it. He rounded the last flight of stairs, his hair even more plastered to his head than it was before, drops of sweat leaking out the end of his ponytail.

He burst into the front office, grabbing the attention of First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye upon entry.

"Edward?" he could hear her voice filter through his ears as he went straight into Mustang's office without so much as a knock or a salute.

Mustang looked up at him through the mound of paperwork that littered his desk, an unimpressed look set upon his features. He waited a moment before speaking, the urge to magnify the boy's stress level coming over him. "Oh, sorry, Full Metal, didn't see you over all those files there. The top one's yours," he stated simply, ignoring the twelve year old's reddening face and impending outburst.

Edward opened his mouth to scream a retort, but cut himself short, his hands still shaking violently at his side. His brow was narrowed, a scowl sliding across his face.

"Well, what are you waiting for? It to come to you?" the smug look captured the older man's face, his onyx eyes gleaming, only angering the twelve year old more for he knew every bit of it was intentional.

Edward grabbed the file, accidentally knocking over a few of the rest of the files due to the trembling of his hands. They scattered to the floor quite quickly, making more of a mess than he would have liked to clean up. So he didn't. He simply turned and made his way to the door, exiting without another word.

He had just stepped foot into the outer office when Hawkeye blocked his way, a concerned but firm look set on her face.

"Edward," she stated resolutely, meeting his gaze, automatically noticing how thin the boy had become. She made a mental note to say something to the Lieutenant Colonel after the boy left, not wanting to attract attention to the matter at the moment. "Since the Lieutenant Colonel forgot to mention it, you are to report here tomorrow morning at the same time with a first draft of your conclusions on this case and any findings you come up with between now and then. You are dismissed," she nodded, watching him carefully as he left without a word and went out the door.

She hesitated for a moment, but went ahead with it and opened Mustang's door, raising an eyebrow at the papers still strewn about the floor. "Sir?" she questioned upon seeing him still signing the stack that was in front of him, completely ignoring the mess at his feet.

"Sir?" she repeated, immediately taking care of the clutter. "I think you should have a talk with Edward. He doesn't appear to be in the best of health, which I'm sure you noticed," she added, standing to hear feet and rearranging the disarray of papers, placing them back on the untidy desk.

"You're the second person to mention that to me within a period of twenty-four hours," he stated with blatant sarcasm, his jet-black eyes still focused on the words in front of him. "But the problem is, there isn't any thing I can do about it," he said, looking up at the blonde haired woman standing in front of him.

She stared at him with an unsure look, knowing that no matter how hard she tried, she would never be able to figure out the man that she had sworn to protect until she laid down her uniform, or her gun for that matter.

"But sir-"

"This is something you'll just have to trust me on," he interjected, reluctantly going back to the work at hand. "His problems are something he's going to have to work out on his own."

"Understood, sir," she responded in a quiet voice. She gave him one last glance before exiting the room, thoughts of the two still parading through her mind.

&&&&&

The blonde slowly trudged towards the library, thankful that it was down the flights of stairs instead of up. That ascent nearly killed him back there. His shoulders were slumped in defeat, the case file hanging loosely tucked underneath his left arm, knowing that he'd probably never even open the thing up. He had more urgent matters at mind. The hardest part of it though would be convincing Al to go along with it.

His golden orbs were clearly unfocused, he not even truly paying attention to the direction he was traveling in. He'd been to that library so many times in the past few months he could probably walk to it in his sleep.

His thick bangs hung limply in his face, still laced with the sweat that had drowned it earlier. He didn't even see the Lieutenant standing in front of him, politely bumping into the man only to be the one that fell straight to the floor, pictures and papers flying about.

"You okay, Ed?" Hughes asked casually, helping the boy back to his unsteady feet, taking note of how easy it was to pull him up off the floor.

"Just peachy," he mumbled through grit teeth, bending down to pick up the caseload. He had a reason why he hadn't wanted to look at it, that reason being so he wouldn't grow attached to the victims of whatever crime had been committed, especially if he was planning on running anyway. It just wouldn't be right. But now the damned thing was in plain view, a perfectly grotesque picture brightening his vision. "Damn Mustang," he muttered, his brow narrowing further. "Dammit!" he let out a little too loudly, catching a few stares from passing personnel.

"Problem?" Maes questioned, raising an eyebrow to the boy's sudden outburst, a hand scratching the back of his head.

The rampage threatened to escape his mouth, but he held it within, not wanting to force his anger and discontent onto the innocent man standing in front of him. "No," he answered dejectedly, scooting all the papers back into the haven of the yellow folder, anger still present in his golden orbs. He stood back up, albeit too quickly, dizziness following suit instantaneously. He swayed to one side, almost dropping the folder again, and would have surely fallen over had Hughes not reached out and grabbed him.

"You know, Ed, why don't we have a talk over lunch? My treat," he smiled, afraid to let go of the still dizzied boy hanging on for dear life in front of him.

The twelve year old knew it would be futile to say no, therefore, he gave a slow nod and a murmur of, "Yeah, sure." He blinked a few times, his vision faltering slightly. Where there was supposed to be only one of something, there were two and in some cases three of certain things, making him thankful that the Lieutenant was keeping close to him, just in case his legs decided to ignore his brain's commands.

"I see you've got your new case. Anything worth entertaining me with?" the older man inquired, studying the blonde's reaction.

"I haven't exactly taken a good look at it yet," Edward replied, the hollowness of his face seemingly even more apparent than it was the day before. The thought of it just being the lighting cascaded through Hughes' mind, but he knew better than to believe that.

"Take a seat, I'll get us something to eat," he smiled as they entered the mess hall. "I've got connections so I'll make sure it's better than that," he added, casually jerking his thumb in the direction of a few soldiers eating nearby.

Edward gave a nod, taking a seat in the back of the room. He had no intentions of being in that place, and the thought of food was beginning to sicken him, especially since he had been so lucky to see the image that had slipped out of the folder. Just the thought made his stomach clench. He sighed, letting out a long withheld breath as he ran his hand wearily through his golden hair. He needed a shower badly, particularly if he was supposed to attend Gracia's birthday party later.

He jumped as two platefuls of food were placed in front of him, bile threatening the back of his throat. "Eh, looks great," he tried unsuccessfully to appear enthusiastic at the meal placed in front of him. He reluctantly picked up a fork, stabbing it into a piece of gravy covered meat on the plate. He glanced up at Hughes, the man already eating. Ed gave a silent gulp, unable to shove the much needed fuel into his mouth.

"So, the party's going to be great tonight," Maes began with a mouthful of food, his hazel eyes shining. "There'll be cake and ice cream, and Elysia's going to be there too. In fact, I even picked up a few things for her as well! She'll be exited to see you Ed, you know. So will Gracia," he added, flashing the twelve year old a grin of pure contentment and happiness. But behind that easy going smile and presence, worry confiscated the man's soul as he watched the boy look on, a half-hearted interest on his visage.

"Sounds wonderful. I can't wait," Edward gave a weak smile, one that didn't even reach his eyes which were still as weary as ever. He continued to pick at the food, the fork not quite making it up to his mouth.

"Don't worry, I'm sure it won't bite," Hughes joked, though the laugh seemed to fall on deaf ears. His expression turned more serious, the concern shadowing in his eyes. "Ed, I can't say I know exactly what you're going through because I don't, but I do know something's wrong when I see it. Why haven't you been eating?" he queried, pushing his own plate away.

Ed could feel his heart start to race, not expecting a confrontation about his eating habits. So what if he wasn't hungry? What was wrong with that? _Plenty_, something in his brain told him, but he just couldn't listen. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said instead, a confused look falling upon his face.

"We've been sitting here for twenty minutes already and you haven't even taken a bite. Ed, if there's something you need to discuss, I'm right here. You don't have to make this a one-man battle. Does Alphonse know?" the question made its way out of his mouth, his hazel eyes trained on the nervous twelve year old seated before him.

"I said I don't know what you're talking about!" Edward exclaimed, shoving the plate off the table, it falling gracefully to the floor. The breaking of the cheap porcelain silenced the entire room, everyone turning in their direction. The blonde gave Hughes one last look before taking off out of the double doors, leaving the Lieutenant in his wake. It was going to be a long night, that was for sure.

**Author's note : This chapter just didn't want to end on me! I thought for sure I'd be able to include the party scene in it, but before I knew it, I'd already written eleven pages so I figured it would get covered in the next one. I knew this was going to be a long story! ;)**

**I just want to THANK everyone who reviewed. I can't believe this story has gotten over 100 reviews and I just want to express my gratitude. So THANK YOU Aemilia Rose, ArkofPathos, Legendary Chimera, Roy-Fan-33, marufu-chan, angsty, Kuropuu, hyperdude, cuylerjade, vampirelf, JChrys, agent000, Lyemi, TreeStar, and all those who have reviewed for previous chapters or put me on an alert. **

**And since all of you have been so kind to me, I'm in the process of writing a one-shot (a LONG one) called Cries From the Wastelands so look forward to that within the coming days. See ya next time!**

**Haunted Obsidian**


	11. Woe of the Beholder

**Title : Whispers of a Nightmare**

**Genre : Anime/Manga**

**Category : Full Metal Alchemist**

**Disclaimer : Nope, this one belongs to someone else as well. **

**Summary : Takes place after the incident with Nina. Something's wrong with Ed, and Al just can't quite figure out what it is. Serious situations and angst ensue.**

**Warnings : Angst, mild language, violence, and other issues that shall go unnamed for now. I don't want to give away too much of the plot just yet, now do I? ;)**

**Rating : T **

**Chapter 11 : Woe of the Beholder **

The water poured down, a thunderstorm in itself. And underneath of it sat the small body of Edward Elric, huddled as tightly into the corner of the shower as was physically possible. The water was almost scolding hot, but he was shivering, albeit uncontrollably. His golden locks were dulled in color underneath the sheet of water that was pouring on him, matted to his reddened face and shoulders, his golden eyes peering out between strands.

His teeth were chattering, his lips quivering just beyond his control; but he continued to let the superficial rain run down on him, covering him from head to toe. Steam filled the air, making it even harder to breathe, but he pushed the thought away to the back of his mind, other, more important things for his brain to attend to.

Emotions mixed within his soul, he knowing he wouldn't be able to keep them in much longer. Day after day, thoughts of that woman haunted his being. Those emerald green eyes would come to conquer him sometimes in the middle of the night, and there was nothing he could do to stop them. He was just as helpless now as he was then, only there was no life left in them now.

He shivered once more, her perfect grin turning ugly and grotesque, images of yellowed and rotted teeth sticking out of that ugly smile, meant just for him. He shivered once more, chills strangely making their way down his spine. His eyes widened as he recalled the later images, the ones when he was hovering in between consciousness and unconsciousness, the ones filled with blood and hellacious gore.

The twelve year old was so numb he couldn't even feel the tears that were streaming down his cheeks, mixing with the hot water. He could still see the images as if it had happened the day before. He saw those eyes, as lifeless as ever, yet there was so much hate still contained in them.

And then the picture would change and transform into the beautiful face of his mother, her eyes gleaming at him as well, green, but not as bright as the LaShea woman's. He could see her smile, hear her gentle voice, so soothing yet there was pain hidden in the undertone.

And he knew the reason for that. All because of his damned father, the man whose blood he had running through his veins. His brow narrowed as the man's visage graced his eyes, his teeth grinding harder against one another. Hohenheim Elric. _He _was the reason why there was pain her voice. _He _was the reason for her giving up. This Edward knew, but a piece of him still believed that he was also somehow partially responsible. And no matter how hard he tried to shake the notion, it beat against his brain like a wave crashing on the beach.

He'd wanted to bring her back so badly, just to hear and feel her; but he failed. His dream was true. If his bastard of a father had been there, she probably would have been able to come back, happy and as vibrant as ever. But he wasn't his father, and he told himself that he never would become like the man, no matter how much he resembled him or had his head stuck in an alchemy book.

The twelve year old pulled his knees inward still, the water continuing to shower him with its hot temperature. But he paid it no heed, his mind focused on his tormentors. Their faces haunted him day and night, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. He couldn't even tell Al, the one person who was always there and truly cared about him. But he couldn't tell him because his little brother's face was one of those that he was forced to look upon night after night. And each and every time, he was reminded of what he had done, and how it was his fault Alphonse was stuck in a metal body.

Faint sobs echoed off the shower walls, he trying so carefully not be heard. But he knew Al was stupid, and he sure as hell wasn't deaf either. But everyone has a breaking point, this he knew, and the possibility of reaching his danced before his eyes. A person was only supposed to be able to handle so much, but what happened if they snapped?

He shook his head, his wet hair sticking to his face. He closed his eyes tight, forcing his mouth closed, making sure he kept silent. He couldn't snap. Edward Elric was not allowed to snap and go off the deep end. He was stronger than that, and he knew it, but believing it was the hard part.

He jumped as he heard the bathroom door open slightly, armor clinking ever so lightly, chilly air entering the room. "Um, Brother?" Alphonse asked, albeit a tad uncomfortably.

"Yeah?" Ed quickly replied, standing to his feet, making a huge mistake.

"I just wanted to let you know it's almost time for the party. It's four thirty…I figured you'd want to get there on time," he answered back, his metallic suit steaming up quickly.

"I'll be right out," the blonde responded, grasping the shower wall for support. He fell back to his knees as he heard the door close, shaking once again. He looked up, unable to make out anything in front of him. Huge purple and blue spots blocked his vision, rendering him temporarily blind. He could just make out the outline of the shower, and that was about it. "Dammit," he whispered, starting to panic.

His whole line of sight was swaying before his eyes, colors and shapes melding together to create a black hole, so to speak, in front of him. His small body rocked back and forth, water continuing to drip off of him, spiraling into the drain spout below. He felt the urge to be sick, but quickly shut it out, not wanting to make more noise than was necessary. Slowly, he took one step forward, reaching out to turn off the knobs. The water soon stopped, steam continuing to fill the air.

He blindly reached for his towel, but missed, knocking the shampoo to the floor, the bottle cap breaking and the fragrant liquid splattering everywhere. "Dammit!" the loud whisper left his lips as he scrambled to pick it up, his hands managing to land everywhere but where the broken bottle lay.

"Here, why don't I get that for you, Brother?" Alphonse's voice cut through the humid air, Ed nearly dropping back to his knees from fright.

"Al!" he shouted, his golden eyes as wide as saucers. "What are you doing in here?" the twelve year old exclaimed, looking much like a dear caught in headlights, anger and panic in his tone.

"Don't yell at me, Brother. I think we need to talk," Al stated in an almost flat tone, gently pushing the towel into Ed's chest as he cleaned up the mess on the floor, not even bothering to look up.

Edward hurriedly wrapped the towel around himself but stayed motionless for a moment, trying to train his still dizzied vision on his little brother, a head ache slowly creeping over his skull. "I thought you went out," he mumbled through a clenched jaw, his eyes slowly drifting towards the floor.

"Hurry up and dry off your automail. I don't think Winry would like it too much if she had to replace it just because it was rusty," Al said calmly, though there was still anger hidden in his tone. He finished cleaning up the soapy liquid and stood up, exiting the room and sending another blast of cold air into it.

Edward's brow declined as he shivered involuntarily, goosebumps igniting on his skin. Hesitantly, he stepped out of the shower, his arms wrapped around his trembling body. The black hole was slowly becoming transparent, though his vision was still not totally restored, pissing him off even further. He reached a quivering hand out for his clothes only to realize they were no longer where he had left them, his teeth gritting in reflex.

"Al, that is not funny!" he called out, reluctantly opening the door, immediately regretting it. It was freezing inside the other room, he forgetting to turn the radiator on. "Now give me my clothes," he ordered, holding out his automail hand, his vision still a bit fuzzy.

"Brother, you've been keeping something from me, and I'd like to know what it is," Alphonse stated, holding the clothes just out of Edward's reach, making the shorter one stand on his tip-toes.

"I hope you're liking this because this is the meanest thing you've done to me yet!" Edward exclaimed, clutching the towel with one hand, the other stretching as far as it possibly could but still not even touching the much needed necessities.

"And _this _is the meanest thing _you've _done to me yet," Al shot back, continuing to make his older brother suffer for the moment, his tone still laced with anger.

"What are you talking about?" Ed yelled, exasperation in his voice, resorting to jumping as the clothes continued to climb higher and higher in the air.

"This!" Alphonse cried out, poking his brother in the ribs that were now clearly visible. "I knew there was something going on! I knew it! And yet you've lied to me this whole time! You said everything was just fine, and that you were alright when you weren't! You lied, Ed! You lied!" he shouted, sounding much more like the eleven year old he was supposed to be, dropping the black materials on the floor.

The twelve year old's heart beat frantically in his ears, desperately trying to erase the last minute of his life. He quickly grabbed the clothes and went back into the bathroom, the dizziness having subsided for the moment; and slammed the door shut, Al hearing the lock click noisily from the other room.

"I could easily break this door down, Ed," Alphonse stated simply, his shadow visible underneath the closed door.

Ed scowled as he hurriedly pulled on his pants, tightening the belt immediately, ignoring how loose the leather was now.

"But I won't, because then I would be invading your privacy!" he yelled, his voice growing louder with each word, sarcasm finding its way to the end of the statement.

"That's not fair, Al, and you know it! Just because you don't have to wear clothes anymore…" his voice trailed off as he reached for his shirt that had fallen to the floor, this time easing his way up to a standing position, his eyes accidentally meeting himself in the mirror. They widened slightly upon seeing himself, the paleness of his face catching his attention first. His line of sight lazily drifted to the rest of him; from his more than prominent cheekbones, to each and every rib that was now visible, his skin transparent and seemingly paper thin. He slowly traced one, a frightened expression creeping over his hallowed visage.

"Are you listening to me, Ed?" Al questioned from the other side of the door. "Because I don't think you are…"

"Of course I'm listening!" he piped up, hastily shoving his undershirt over his head and pulling his arms through that and his zip-up one. "We're going to be late," he said as he opened the door, two unamused, soul-filled eyes looking down at him. "Come on, Al. We'll talk about this later," Ed muttered, walking past him while braiding his hardly dried hair. He tied it in place and slipped on his red jacket, an uneasy silence resting between them. "Are you coming or not?" the twelve year old snapped, opening the dorm room door, staring expectantly back at his little brother. Al followed suit without a word.

The walk to the Hughes' house was quiet and utterly tension filled, but all the while uneventful. Al clanked without a word, obviously something going through his jaded and confused mind. Ed however, tried desperately to hide the limp of his left leg due to the chilling weather and dropping temperatures; but couldn't quite make it unnoticeable, earning a few strange looks from passersby.

It was a quarter 'til six before they showed up at the door, the walk taking longer than what they'd planned. Edward had just raised his fist up to knock when the door opened, Maes' face staring back at them. The blonde had pretty much prepared for the door to be slammed in his face before the hazel eyed man jerked his little brother inside, but instead, a warm smile lit up his features, the door opening wider.

"Glad you two could make it," Maes said, still smiling. "I was beginning to think you weren't going to come," he added, an almost concerned look silhouetting his eyes. "Well, don't just stand there, come in." His tone was just as warm as his expression, making Edward feel all the worse for the event that had preceded the party.

The twelve year old opened his mouth to apologize but was instantly cut off by Hughes, putting a finger to his lips. "Don't worry about it. Go on and have fun," he nodded towards the other guests, closing the door behind them.

Edward could feel tears instantly threaten his eyes for a reason he couldn't explain, quickly blinking them away and saving them for another time. His eyes scanned the small but conversational crowd in front of him, a hint of a smile gracing his lips as he realized it was the first time he had ever seen the majority of them without their uniforms on, amusing him a bit.

He didn't even realize Alphonse had left his side until he saw him talking to the person who was the guest of honor, Gracia. His stomach clenched as something else hit him, he forgot to bring a gift. _Good one_, the chide ran through his mind, quickly thinking of something to transmute.

Looking around, he snuck back outside, hunting for the nearest rose bush. He had just snatched up a few of the almost withering crimson colored objects when light footsteps befell his ears. He turned around quickly, almost dropping the small bouquet he had gathered.

"You don't have to do that, Ed," Hughes stated, a small smile still touching his lips. "Just you being here and being alive is a gift in itself," he stated, that worried look burrowing further into his features.

"Yeah," the blonde nodded sadly, his head bowing. "Listen, I want to apologize-"

"Don't worry about it, Edward," the hazel eyed man interjected with a wave of the hand. "There's nothing to be sorry for." He paused for a moment, his gaze drifting to the horizon above them, twilight coming into view. "I know you're upset about the orders, that's a no-brainer; but what I can't figure out is why you won't eat. You can't keep doing this to yourself or your body's going to shut down. You're not an idiot, Ed, so tell me what's going on." He looked down at the twelve year old who had managed not to transform his youthful visage into a tormented scowl. Yet.

Edward was silent for a moment, his head hung, eyes staring down the ground. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came, a confused grimace marking his features. Before he could control it, his hand started to shake, the flowers he'd picked crumbling to pieces. The lost petals were picked up by the wind, carrying them towards the street.

"This isn't like you, Ed. I know I haven't exactly known you for the longest time, but I have known you long enough to know you don't keep things inside like this. Alright, if it makes you feel any better, I won't tell anyone we had this conversation," he added, holding up his right hand as though he were testifying on the witness stand.

"Not even Mustang," the whisper came through a clenched jaw and pained voice, the flowers completely dissolved into the breeze.

A sigh parted Hughes lips, a nod following. "Not even Roy," he agreed, observing the youngest State alchemist in the history of Ametris. "Spill it, Ed."

"Do you swear?" the boy asked, taking no chances as he gazed up at the man standing in front of him, bangs partially hiding his golden orbs of circumstance.

Hughes shot him a get-on-with-it-already look, apparently good enough for the child to continue.

"Every night-" He cut himself short, his voice starting to shake, his body beginning to follow suit. "Every night," he repeated, this time with more anger. "I see their faces in my dreams. And they-they tell me how awful I am," he stated, his voice threatening to break in two. He sniffled, holding back his tears. "And no matter how hard I try, they won't go away. They never stop…," his voice trailed off, a stray tear peddling down his cheek.

"You know just as well as I do that those dreams aren't real," Maes offered, speaking softly. He placed a comforting hand on Edward's shoulder, realizing just how much the twelve year old was trembling. "You've got to stop doing this to yourself, Ed. And you know that. Whatever they're saying, it's not true. And you can't let them get to you. It's all in your head." His hazel eyes studied the broken boy that stood before him, his red jacket catching the whispering breeze.

"But it's all my fault!" the outburst came, the child's eyes widening with fright. "All of it!" he shouted, his throat giving up on his vocal cords, rendering them silent for the moment. The only sounds making their way out of him were quiet, pained sobs, wrenching the older man's heart. Slowly, he took Ed into his arms, tears threatening his eyes as well.

"That's not true, Ed." His tone was serious but filled with understanding, his eyes reflecting his words. "Humans aren't perfect, that's just the way it is. And because of those imperfections, we make mistakes. If we didn't, the world as we know it wouldn't exist."

The twelve year old continued to sob into the man's stomach, tears escaping from his eyes. "But I made too many mistakes," he whispered, talking so fast Hughes couldn't get a word in edge wise. "I failed my mom, I failed Al, Nina…I've let down everyone I've ever cared about…" His voice became swiftly silent once more, his shoulders trembling as he clenched the sides of Hughes shirt in his hands. "And no matter how hard I try," he said through gritted teeth, "I'll never be able to bring back my mom or Nina. I'm starting to wonder if I'll even be able to give Al his body back."

"Don't think like that, Edward. You _can't _think like that," his statement sounded more like a command, feeling almost like a father to the quivering child in his arms. "You can't doubt yourself or you'll never be able to accomplish anything. And that's not fair to your brother or you. You can't give up, Ed. Besides, you're way too stubborn, right?" he offered, trying his damnedest to lighten up the mood, only catching another sob from the twelve year old.

"It's getting cold out here, why don't we go inside, hmm?" Maes asked, gently pushing Edward away from, looking him in the eye.

"Sure," Ed mumbled, wiping the tears from his cheeks with his sleeve. "Lieutenant?" he questioned, his weary golden orbs meeting Hughes'.

"We're not at work, Ed, so you can call me Maes, or Hughes. Whichever," he replied with a sly smile and a shrug.

"Thanks," he said, his voice still barely audible. "You know, for…_that_."

Maes nodded, shooing the blonde inside. "Go on now, there's a big cup of hot chocolate just waitin' for you," he smiled. "Get in there, I'll be in in a minute," the hazel eyed man gave another quick grin, folding his arms across his chest. With a sharp nod, Ed listened and went in, thankful for the warm air that blasted him in the face. He felt slightly better, not having opened up to anyone like that since…_ever_. He'd never even broke down on Alphonse like that; but maybe that was because he couldn't, or thought he couldn't for that matter.

His little brother's voice slowly drifted through his ears, sounding surprisingly happy despite the words they exchanged before arriving. A small smile made its way to his lips, life slowly easing back into his golden orbs, though torment still lingered at the back of his mind.

&&&&&

"How touching," a curious yet sarcastic Roy Mustang made his way towards Hughes, a drink in his hand, and an eyebrow raised.

"Better than what you could do," Maes replied matching the other man's sarcastic wit, a small smile creasing the corners of his mouth.

"You're probably right," Mustang agreed, taking a sip from the sweating glass, ice swimming around inside the yellowish liquid.

"Roy, this is more serious than I thought," he said, his hazel eyes piercing the jet black ones that were now holding his attention.

"How so?" Roy asked casually, leaning against the door, one arm folded underneath the other, his black dress jacket creasing slightly.

"The kid has the whole weight of the world on his shoulders," he explained, carefully choosing his words, not wanting to divulge more than he promised. "Something's gotta give or he's gonna break," Maes stated with worry in his eyes. "But just one talk isn't going to do it. And for all I know, he's just putting on another act until he's by himself again. God only knows what goes through that kid's head," he muttered, stealing a drink from Mustang's glass, earning a respectable, half-hearted scowl.

"Maybe I _should _have a talk with him then," Roy mumbled lowly, wishing he had bit his tongue instead.

"Oh yeah, I can just hear it now. _'What did I tell you, Full Metal? When you signed your name on the dotted line, you became property of the State. And that means you have to listen to me and blah blah blah, blah blah blah.'_ Something like that, right?" Hughes laughed, reaching for Roy's glass again.

"Get your own," the deep voice growled, yanking the glass away and nearly pouring the drink all over his plain white button-up shirt and black blazer.

"Um, sirs," Lieutenant Havoc asked, poking his head outside the door. They both turned to look at him. "Um, we're about to light the candles--"

"I almost forgot!" Hughes blurted out, rushing back inside. "Coming honey!" he called loudly, scaring half the people in the vicinity.

Mustang sighed and reluctantly followed, his eyes slowly drifting over towards the oldest Elric brother. He was sitting on the sofa, a steaming mug clenched tightly in his hand. He watched the boy set it down on the coffee table and stand up when the cake was brought out, a lost look still set in the background of his golden eyes even though there was a grin plastered on his hallowed out face.

There was only one time Roy could remember seeing himself like that. It was right after the Ishbal War. He sighed, nostalgia creeping over his wandering mind. After seeing all the things he had, and doing all the things he'd done, he was surely ready to give what little he had up. He didn't care anymore, had lost all hope. The image of the gun wafted across his vision, and the trembling hands that were glued to it.

That feeling-that feeling of complete and utter hopelessness, he recalled it so well. He had been on the verge of insanity, and surely would have made it if not for his best friend, the man who would see him to the top, if he remembered correctly.

As cowardly as he thought he might have been, the man had still saved his ass, and for that he would be eternally grateful. Had Maes not seen him through the situation, he wouldn't have made it to where he was, nor where he hoped he'd be.

But being as thoughtful and caring wasn't as easy as Maes put it out to be, or so he thought. Roy Mustang was simply not the mushy type, nor the hugging, emotional type either. He was the strong, secretive, capable, and intelligent kind; not sensitive or weepy. Hell, he couldn't even remember the last time he'd cried. No, on second thought, he could; in fact, it was the day he'd held the gun inside his mouth but couldn't pull the trigger. His tear ducts had been closed off and boarded up since then.

In a way, Edward Elric was so much like him that it scared him somewhere deep within. Of course, both were unusually stubborn; both needed almost twenty-four hour supervision by someone close to them due to their ability to act first and think second; and both had a tendency to piss one another off with such ease and few little words that it was uncanny, really.

But they were also different in many ways. At twelve, Roy wasn't worried about regaining an arm or a leg, nor bringing a soul back from the dead, far from it actually. His youthful mind had been concerned with other things, far more trivial situations than what had been laid down upon that child.

He took another drink, his gaze resting on Gracia as she blew out the candles on the obviously made-by-Hughes birthday cake. He couldn't help but let a small smile, not a smirk, but a genuine smile cross his lips as he watched his best friend rub icing across Gracia's nose, generating laughs from the small crowd, even Edward.

Perhaps Hughes and Hawkeye were right. Maybe he really should say something to the kid, but what? What in the world could he possibly say to snap the boy out of his downward spiral? He was Roy Mustang, Lieutenant Colonel, to be exact, the one who was cool and collected and intellectual; and yet not one phrase came to mind. Not one.

He went to take another drink from the glass when he realized that all was left was the ice which had melted to about a fifth of its original size. He set the empty tumbler down on the table, and made his way over to the sofa, taking a seat. He was quiet as Edward sat down on the opposite side of him, holding a fork and a small plate with cake on it. A few bites were taking from the sugary concoction, but quickly placed back on the coffee table with the cold cup of hot cocoa.

"Not hungry?" the words rolled off Mustang's tongue casually, his words directed at the boy but his eyes looking elsewhere.

"Not really," Edward muttered, his annoyance level jumping by leaps and bounds. He'd already been through this enough for one day, and hearing another lecture or concern would piss him over the edge. "I'm fine, thanks," he stated, preparing to get up.

"Sit," Roy ordered, his arms resting on the back of the couch. "And don't even think about leaving already, the party's just started," he continued with a sly expression, reaching out to push the boy back down onto the soft cushions, earning him a exasperated sigh and a roll of the eyes from the twelve year old. "Now listen, Ed, I know you've been through some, _tough _times recently," he started, immediately setting the boy into a whispered frenzy.

"Thanks for your time. Not interested. See ya tomorrow," Edward smiled through grit teeth, pushing himself back up again, inwardly swearing up and down if he sat there and listened to the whole thing, his ears would start to bleed.

"Not so fast," Roy returned the fake smile with ease, pulling the kid right back down. "If the experiences you went through a few weeks ago are affecting you this badly, I think we should converse about it," he said, still not giving the boy so much as a glance, already recalling how red and bloodshot the kid's eyes looked.

The twelve year old's lips pursed together for a moment before he gave a response. "Whatever I went through yesterday or the day before is my business and mine alone; and I don't need some washed up, full-of-himself, wannabe Fuhrer try to make me feel better about myself, or whatever it is you're trying to do," the words came out almost too fast for the man sitting next to him to understand. The blonde stood up swiftly, but not fast enough for Mustang to still grab a hold of him.

"The orders Hawkeye gave you still stand. Tomorrow at ten o'clock, Elric," the command flowed from his lips with such ease it disgusted the boy even further. "And don't be late," he added with his trademark smirk, letting the boy's jacket slip between his fingers.

"Yes, sir," he murmured through a tightly clenched jaw, making his way over to Al. "Come on, let's go," he said gently, lightly tapping Alphonse on his metallic shoulder.

"Huh? Oh," was Al's quiet response. He stood slowly to his feet, exchanging good-byes with the officers he was having a chat with. "It was nice talking to you," he nodded, reluctantly following his older brother. "Why are we leaving so early?" the eleven year old questioned, his metal clanking with each step.

"Because I'm tired and I have a lot of work to do," Edward replied wearily, pulling his red jacket tighter. Before leaving, he made his way over to the Hughes', forcing a polite smile onto his tight features. "Happy Birthday, Mrs. Hughes," he said with a bow, his bangs quietly making their way into his face.

"Happy Birthday, Mrs. Hughes'," Alphonse echoed, bowing as well, careful to make sure his helmet didn't fall off in front of everyone.

"Thank you, boys, it was very nice of you to come. Why don't you take some cake with you?" she asked, a warm smile on her motherly face.

"Um, you don't have to-"

"Of course," Alphonse interrupted his smaller, older brother, his voice as cheerful as ever. "That would be very nice of you, Mrs. Hughes."

"I'll be right back," she stated, standing to her feet, and disappearing through the kitchen doors.

Edward shot Al a sideways glance, a pout forming on his lips. "Thanks a lot, Al," he murmured out of the corner of his mouth, his face reddening slightly.

Hughes looked up at them, adjusting his glasses. "I'd like to thank you boys for coming too. Oh, and before I forget," he said reaching behind him. "You left this," Maes stated with a quiet smile on his face, handing the blonde a file folder.

Before Edward had a chance to reply, Gracia came back into the room, handing him a small box. "Here you go, boys. And be careful out there, okay?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am. Um, thank you," he replied, a touch of sadness in his voice. He gave a weak smile before turning around and heading for the door.

"Good night!" Al called over his shoulder as he followed Ed, giving a polite wave.

The streets were quiet and pretty much desolate as they made their way back to HQ, their shadows being the only other form of life around. The sky was hidden beneath a blanket of clouds, the moon's light confiscated as well. A chill swept through the air, wrapping itself around the two boys, though only one of them could feel it.

"Al," Ed's surprisingly subdued voice penetrated the silence between them, his golden eyes sparkling in the street light, the hollowing of his face even more present and noticeable. "I'm sorry, for earlier. It's just…I've had a lot on my mind lately and all…and I shouldn't have taken it out you. I'm sorry," he repeated, his face crestfallen at his guilt.

Al was silent as he digested his brother's words, knowing he couldn't stay mad at him for long. It just wouldn't be right. "It's okay, Ed, really," he replied, conscious of the situation still at hand. He was silent again, trying not to let his anger get the better of him.

Edward played off the quiet for a minute, letting his thoughts find their way to his tongue. "There's something I need to ask you. It's important," he added, small swirls of mist flowing from his lips, the air growing colder.

"What is it?" Alphonse asked reluctantly, Ed gaining his full attention and curiosity.

"I-I didn't tell you before, but Mustang's trying to force me to stay here for awhile. He thinks I have _issues _to work out before he lets me travel again. That's what this is all about," he said, holding up the file. "This is the new case he wants me to work on, but…"

"You have other things in mind, right?" Al deadpanned, staring at the road ahead.

"I want to go back, Al. I want to go back to Kiase and see what we can find. That woman said she got that stone from a doctor there, and there's a possibility some of the townspeople might know who he is. Look, I know--" His fast-talking was cut off by his little brother, clearly not amused.

"What? Are you crazy, Brother? Do you know what kind of trouble you could get into for doing something like that?" Alphonse paused for a moment, trying to ease his troubled soul. "And besides, after what happened back there, do you really think those people would even talk to us?"

"I guess I didn't think about that…but still, there's a chance, Al. And we can't give up now! Do you realize how close we were? That woman had a genuine stone, Al! It wasn't a fake!" his voice raised, sounding lively for the first time in weeks.

"And she was going to use it on you!" Al shot back, anger in his tone. "Ed, there's something I've been meaning to tell you too. Something Kania told me. He said that the reason he killed people was to make the stone work. Like the souls he collected brought life to it or something," he explained, a sad undertone in his voice.

"That's crazy, Al! I mean, seriously, killing people to make it work? You've got to be kidding me," Edward pushed his little brother's words away, a disbelieving look on his face.

"Don't act like you haven't heard the theory before, Ed! Don't forget Equivalent Exchange. You have to give something in order to get something," Al reminded, a chastising edge to his voice.

"But the Philosopher's Stone bypasses that law!" Ed returned, dead set on his own thoughts.

"Not when you have to create one!" his little brother quipped back, stopping dead in his tracks. "

"Who said we had to create one?" the twelve year old questioned, craning his neck to look up into his little brother's soul-filled eyes.

"There's always a possibility, Ed. We don't know if one exists or not," Al explained, his tone calmer than before.

"So are you telling me that you would pass up the possibility to get our bodies back to normal?" the blonde questioned with such seriousness in his eyes that Al had to take a minute to respond.

"It depends."

"On what?" Ed exclaimed, impatience burning in his golden orbs.

"Do you honestly think you can get away with just disappearing like that? I mean, is it really safe?" the younger one questioned, unsure of whether or not he was actually thinking what he was thinking. _Am I seriously agreeing with this? I had a bad feeling about the last time, and I didn't stop it, and look where it got us. What it wrong with me?_

"Al, nothing's ever safe. There's risk no matter what you're doing. Even I know that," Edward responded with an air of superficial confidence.

An unexplained sigh emanated from Al's metallic body, even if there wasn't air in his inexistent lungs to back it up. "Fine, say I do agree to this. When would we leave?"

"Tonight," was the older boy's simple reply, a mischievous smile sliding across his face.

**Author's note : Okay, THIS chapter did not want to end on me. I think this is the longest one yet! Hopefully, it wasn't too boring or confusing. I get lost writing sometimes. :o**

**Once again, thank you all so much for your continuous support and reviews. Your kind words are wonderful to read, and are giving me inspiration left and right, so THANK YOU to Akamori-chan, Ominous-Shadow, Lyemi, Roy-Fan-33, marufu-chan, Aemilia Rose, Kuropuu, agent000, ArkofPathos, JChrys, Legendary Chimera, hyperdude, Birth of Venus, Jaz the Wolf, vampirelf, Harryswoman, and all of those who have put me on your favs list or story alert list. Really, THANK YOU:D **

**The one shot's coming, it got stalled due to the length of this chapter. Well, hope you guys enjoyed it! Until next time…**


	12. Tormented Deception

**Title : Whispers of a Nightmare**

**Genre : Anime/Manga**

**Category : Full Metal Alchemist**

**Disclaimer : Nope, this one belongs to someone else as well. **

**Summary : Takes place after the incident with Nina. Something's wrong with Ed, and Al just can't quite figure out what it is. Serious situations and angst ensue.**

**Warnings : Angst, mild language, violence, and other issues that shall go unnamed for now. I don't want to give away too much of the plot just yet, now do I? ;)**

**Rating : T **

**Chapter 12 : Tormented Deception **

"Tonight? Ed, are you crazy?" the shrill outburst poured from the steel suit of armor. Alphonse paused for a moment, trying to compose himself and his thoughts. "Okay, tonight, right. And you're going to do this how?" he asked, his voice at a much calmer level.

"Well, it's pretty simple actually," the twelve year old stated nonchalantly, starting to walk again, a hidden excitement in his step. "If we board the 9:15 train, it'll only take us about two days, three at the most, to reach Kiase. Then once we're there, we get to the bottom of things, and hopefully, get you back to normal," he added, the superficial confidence sliding back into place.

"Wow, Ed, that sounds like a great plan," Alphonse quipped, sarcasm dripping thickly from his comment. "So, how long do you think it'll take us to 'get to the bottom of things?'" the eleven year old remarked, his gloved fingers emphasizing the last five words of the statement.

A slightly hurt look weaved itself around Edward's features, his eyes holding most of the blow. "Look, Al, all I have to do is leave a reasonable explanation with Mustang and we go from there. I'll just slip it on his desk before we leave, and by the time he finds it, we'll be a day away from here."

"And you don't think he has any clue about you wanting to go back?" Al prodded, an eyebrow being raised if it could. Instead, he settled for a raised gauntlet.

"What's with all this 'you' stuff?" the confused question parted the eldest Elric brother's lips. "_We_, Al. _We_. Of course not. And besides, there's a good chance he might not even make it into work tomorrow. Did you see how much of that stuff he was gulping down? Ha, and even if he does, his head'll be hurting too much to care!" A dry laugh couldn't help but escape the blonde's throat.

"Wow, Brother, I didn't realize it was that easy to fool the military," the sharp observation emanated from the steel suit.

"Very funny, Al. So are you with me?" Ed asked, his eyes brightening for the first time since the whole incident with Nina; and the near death experience with Barry the Chopper.

_Why does he do this to me?_ "Yes, Brother, of course I'm with you. Would you think any different?" the honest question made its way through the air and into his older brother's ears.

"You _were _starting to scare me there for a minute," Ed admitted, shivering against the gust of wind that swirled around him. His golden bangs flew about his face, the paleness of it highlighted by the street light, it also casting a shade about his lips, making them appear a rather dark shade of blue. "So it's settled then. I just need to grab a few things from the room, and leave the letter, and we'll be set. It's 8:00 now, so we'd better hurry. I don't want to take any chances," he stated, puffs of mist forming at his lips as he spoke.

"Brother, even though I'm agreeing to this, I'm still upset about earlier," Alphonse's voice cut through the chilly air, Edward trying to pretend as though he hadn't heard it. Defying the Lieutenant Colonel's orders and leaving Central was the most dignifying thing he had done in recent days, and that feeling of getting away with something when he knew he shouldn't was one he didn't want to let go of any time soon.

They made it to HQ shortly, gathering the few possessions that they did own and giving Ed just enough time to right out a believable excuse to Mustang. Al didn't get a chance to see what it said, but could have sworn he heard one of Ed's devious snickers emanate from his throat as they quietly snuck into Mustang's office and left it.

"Are you sure you won't get into trouble for this?" Al's quiet voice asked as they made their way towards the train station.

"I'll be fine, Al. Don't worry about me," he shrugged off the comment, putting on his best façade. "I'm just not sure where to go to first," he started off, letting his thoughts be voiced. "I'd like to go talk to that bartender. I mean, he was there when it all happened, so he's bound to know something, right?"

"That is, if he'll speak to you, you mean," Al corrected, glancing down at his older, smaller brother.

"But he's not the only one, Al," Edward continued on as though his little brother hadn't uttered a word. "The majority of that town knew what was going on, I know it. There's just no way something could stay hidden for that long and no one know about it. And that doctor--we've got to find out who that doctor was. If we can find out his name, anything-- then we can get to the bottom of this. Because if the guy had one Stone, then he would at least know how to create it or where more were at, right?" the thoughts and questions kept pouring from the twelve year old's mouth, making Alphonse reminisce about their childhood days.

"Right," the younger one chipped in, giving in slightly and pushing the anger he held back a ways. He would save it for some other time, the train ride maybe.

"But she did say she killed him…"Ed's voice trailed off, his brow narrowing a bit. "But still, if we could just find a name, then who knows where that could lead us? And maybe, just maybe, there's something else those townspeople know that they aren't speaking about. Maybe there's another piece of the puzzle that we haven't seen yet," the excited ramblings continued, Al knowing how disappointed Ed would be if this were all for nothing. But if they didn't take a chance as he'd said before, then they wouldn't get anywhere either.

They reached the train station undetected and with a few minutes to spare, much to the relief of Ed. He smiled inwardly, wishing he could see the look on Mustang's face when he realized he'd be gone for awhile. A little piece of it made its way to his lips, unable to contain his contentment.

The two boys got on the train, albeit earning an odd look or two, and took a seat at the back in the comfort of the dim light that filled the car.

Ed stifled a yawn as he sat down, not wanting to admit how truly exhausted he was. Hell, his whole body ached, but for some reason, whining about it at the moment just didn't seem right. Or maybe it was the fact that he didn't want to worry Al anymore than he already was. Yeah, maybe that _was _it. Maybe.

He leaned back, stretching his short legs out before him, his leather pants clearly hanging off of him. And even though he could see this and knew it wasn't right, a part of him felt some sort of odd pride towards the fact, knowing he had the discipline to do something like that to himself.

_Whatever doesn't kill you will make you stronger. Well, I'm not dead. Yet,_ the thought swirled around his jumbled mind as he closed his eyes and put his hands behind his head, feeling the train slowly roll on the tracks. _You will be if you keep heading down the same road_, a voice cut through his head, his eyes cracking open, he almost swearing Al had been the one to say it.

"Al, you say something?" he questioned, raising a confused brow.

"No," came the simple, quiet reply, the steel helmet still facing the window. His gloved hands were folded neatly in his lap, their suitcase tucked away safely between his two metallic boots.

The blonde was about to close his eyes again but stopped, something about the way his brother was positioned making an uneasy feeling stir within him. A sudden sadness hit him, making him grimace in response. He knew what was wrong, even if Al didn't want to say it.

His golden eyes slowly drifted to the floor, he not even being able to conceive the notion of being stuck in a metallic suit day in and day out. Not being able to feel, taste, or truly touch; gone the ability to breathe or smell anything. Never tiring, never slowing down; always awake, being forced to watch and observe everything that was going on around you at all times. Ed couldn't even fathom it.

He glanced down at his automail, knowing that the artificial arm and leg he had were nothing compared to the pain his little brother was experiencing and had been experiencing for quite some time now. All he wanted to do was take away that pain, but it seemed as though anything and everything managed to get in his way.

The blonde's head jerked swiftly as he heard the metallic suit clanking softly, his golden eyes locking onto his little brother who had simply shifted a leg, pulling the suitcase into a more secure position. His steady gaze fell once again, his heart pounding profusely in his chest.

He closed his eyes once more, hearing his stomach rumble faintly in the back of his mind. He paid the sign of hunger no heed and decided that perhaps taking a nap wouldn't be so bad. They had plenty of time to discuss their plans and course of action, a few hours couldn't hurt.

He slid quietly onto his side, wrapping his red jacket around him tightly, cool air still seeping into the sidecar. A shiver moved his body involuntarily, knowing a comment from Al would probably follow suit before he could force himself to sleep.

"Ed?"

_Right on cue_, he thought wryly, not even lifting his head up. "Yeah? What is it, Al?" he asked casually, scrunching up into an even tighter ball, a pain starting to make its way into his stomach.

"You didn't eat anything today." The observation was plain and clear, and it struck Ed dead and center. He'd been so good at keeping the thought away from Al, but he knew it was coming sooner or later.

"I did so. You worry too much," he murmured, another shiver traveling down his spine and through his nerves, his automail making an odd clank against the seat. His brow narrowed at this, hoping Al didn't hear it; but that was a foolish thought and he knew it, Al heard practically everything.

"No, you didn't, Brother," the flat response came from the eleven year old, his soul-filled eyes suddenly filled with a tinge of anger. He thought he could save it for later, but as pathetic and as weak as Ed was starting to look, the thought of this whole fiasco being a bad idea crept into his mind once again, forcing him to speak on it.

"I'm fine, Al, really," the blonde mumbled as sleepily as he could, only sounding half as convincing as he usually did when he was acting. He clenched his jaw, the pain seemingly echoing through his insides, traveling throughout his mid section and upper legs. His hand grasped at the cottony red material of his jacket, doing as best he could to wait it out.

"Brother, I may be trapped in this empty shell--"

"Thanks for reminding me," Ed's quiet mutterings cut off his brother's words, only angering the eleven year old even more.

"But I'm not blind!" he shouted, a seemingly woe-filled expression coveting his eyes.

"Keep your voice down, will ya?" Ed warned, sitting up quickly and casting a fearful glance around them, making sure their conversation rested between their ears only. The last thing he needed was for them to attract attention to themselves. The whole point of leaving so late was to remain unnoticeable and inconspicuous, if at all possible.

"You know, Ed, I have no control over the way I look, but you do. And you're obviously not doing a very good job of it!" he scolded the twelve year old, anger still ever present in his youthful tone.

"There isn't anything wrong with me, Al, so I don't know what you're making a big deal about-"

"You know exactly why I'm making a big deal!" the exclamation poured from the suit of armor. "Yes, I'm worried about you, but I have good reason to be! You look like a walking skeleton, Ed!" The boy's voice broke with the last comment, he unable to hold his emotions under control any longer.

The words wracked Ed mercilessly, his golden eyes growing in size. They suddenly took on a watery appearance, tears threatening to leak out at any time. The boy could feel his hands start to shake, his heart beat racing rapidly once more. His vocal cords apparently decided to turn themselves off, for he couldn't even utter a word.

"And you know, that's not even the entire reason why I'm so afraid to continue with this-this _scheme_!" his tirade of painful words continued on, hurt being vocalized to the extreme. "I'm afraid I might not even trust your judgment anymore! You'd better hope that excuse you gave was a good one, because if it isn't…I don't want to know what would happen…" his pained voice slowly faded, his helmet turning towards the window once more.

A tear silently made its way down Ed's cheek, he quickly wiping it away with the back of his shaking hand. The speechlessness continued for another moment, his little brother's words charging through his head. His heart beat continued to grow louder in his ears, quickening at a frightening pace, but he paid no attention to it, focusing on the continuous cycle of words that forced their way through his ears.

His golden orbs stared straight ahead, water shining in them once more. His hands braced the seat he was on, looking as though he were holding on for dear life, the remnants of the blow slowly dissipating. He never thought he felt as bad in his life as he did at that moment. He'd never heard his little brother sound like that before, and the closest that it ever came to that tone was the island incident, when all hope was pretty much given up on.

The sound of metal clanking made the boy's head raise, the image of Alphonse standing to his feet and exiting the car making his heart sink even further. He watched the suit of armor walk quickly away from him and out into the back of the car, the sound of the door opening and closing befalling his ears.

A few more tears quietly leaked down his cheeks, an involuntary sigh leaving his lips. His watery gaze fell to the window, drifting among the darkness that covered the outside. He wanted to let Alphonse cool off, have a little time to himself, but something told him to get up and get out there, just in case.

Reluctantly, he pushed himself up off the semi-comfortable seat, guilt etching across his soul. He forced his legs to move, though his left one seemed to lack the extra bit of strength he needed to move it, it falling slightly off sync with his right one. He closed his eyes for a moment as the sound of his boot dragging met his hearing, fully knowing he needed rest, but couldn't get it until he settled things with his little brother.

Thankful that the majority of the passengers were sleeping, he carefully made his way out of the car, opening the door as quick as was possible, and slipping right next to Al, the cold breeze instantly hitting him and nearly pushing him off his feet.

Silence rested between them momentarily as the train continued to chug, the landscape rushing by at several miles per hour. But the darkness covered the land like a thick winter blanket, making it pretty much impossible to see much of anything except for the shards of moonlight that were filtering through the clouds.

The wind was chilling Edward to the bone, his hair spilling about wildly. He held onto the steel post that framed the end of the train like a fence, resting his left boot on one of its lower bars. Pain traveled up and down his leg, he trying to hide the trace of a grimace it left on his features. Words were tumbling through his mind at an alarming rate, his brain trying to process them as fast as it could, though nothing still refused to come out.

"Tell me why." Alphonse's voice drifted through the night air, straight into Ed's ears. Silence drifted between them for a moment, the older boy still trying to make his vocal cords work, a task that was proving to be increasingly difficult.

"Why what?" the two words parted Edward's lips, his gaze staring straight ahead, his voice taking on a slightly colder tone. He hunched over a bit, trying to hold onto any heat he had created for himself inside, though that seemed fruitless as well.

"Don't act dumb, Brother," Al responded dully, his soul-filled eyes seemingly narrowing a bit. He stood up straighter and folded his arms across his metal chest, his gaze falling to the side, the cold wind blowing past him and he unable to feel it.

"Maybe I'm _not _acting," Ed muttered, resting his head on his chin. His golden eyes carried a faint glow, appearing more haunted than a twelve year old's should be; hell, anyone's for that matter.

"What do you call it then?" Al shot, turning towards the tiny alchemist. "Because I never took you for being an idiot, Brother!" his voice broke through the crisp air, sending a shiver down the boy's spine.

"And I'm not either!" Ed recoiled, standing up straight, his red jacket cascading around him, any sign of warmth completely gone. His hands were starting to shake again, the skin around his eyes starting to redden.

"Why are you doing this, Ed? To prove a point? And don't say because you're just not hungry, because frankly, Brother, I'm not buying that anymore!" The eleven year old's voice shuddered slightly, a faint whimper escaping the nearly invincible steel suit.

"There's nothing wrong with me, Al, so will you just get off it!" the blonde shouted, his voice barely audible over the roar of the locomotive's engine. He had a fierce but fearful look set upon his face, a forecast of rain and sobs in the near future.

"If I don't do anything about it, you're going to die! Do you think Mom would like to see her oldest son starve himself to death?" The younger boy was silent for a moment letting his words sink thoroughly in. In a lower, more controlled voice, he continued, "You're all I've got left, and I'm not about to lose you know."

"You're not going to lose me," the whisper came from the young State alchemist's lips, tears brimming at his eyes. "I made a promise, Al, and I'm going to keep it. I'm going to get you you're body back no matter what."

"Then tell me, Brother, how are you going to get it back if you're dead?" The howling wind blew a distilled silence through their ears, the invisible rift between them growing larger by the second. The moon finally broke free of it's midnight prison, pale rays of its glorious light illuminating the two figures standing next to one another, both in a defensive position.

In the far distance of sound, an animal howled, flowing faintly between them, an odd sensation falling over the two brothers.

Without warning, the train started to shake, the track uneven and choppy.

"Ed, what's going on?" Al's now fear-filled voice exclaimed, grabbing a hold of the rail Edward had been holding onto just minutes before, his armor clanking noisily through the chaos of it all.

"I think the train's going to derail!" the blonde shouted back, his small body moving much more easily than that of his younger brother's. The train jerked suddenly, throwing him straight into the rail, pain shooting down his side instantaneously. "Just hold on!" he yelled, clasping a hold of the iron bars.

The train continued to jerk, and then with a sickening crunch of metal, the two brothers could feel it veer off the tracks, some of the cars tumbling over and crashing into the soft earth below.

The last thing they heard was the sound of an explosion as they were sent flying into the darkness of night, and the screams of the other passengers. A long night, indeed.

&&&&&

Bright rays of sunlight poured through the office windows, irritating the still quite hung-over Lieutenant Colonel Mustang. His steps were slow but calculated, his jet black eyes landing on the ever present mountain of paperwork that cluttered his desk. Slowly but surely, he made it to his chair and sat down, not looking forward to the day that lay ahead.

He reached for his coffee mug only to find it was a leftover from the day before, his eyebrows narrowing further. Letting out an angered sigh, he pushed it away, hoping it would spill all over some of the useless paperwork and probably late as well. But to his dismay, it decided to stay glued to the spot where it was at, just annoying him further.

He leaned back, reaching a hand over to close the blinds. But just before he did, a piece of paper that had not been there the day before caught his eye. Raising an eyebrow, he carefully picked it up, all the while knowing that somehow he would not be pleased to read whatever was on it. And sure enough, he was right, as always.

_Attention Lieutenant Colonel Mustang-_

_My automail stopped working. Had to go back to Resembool to get it fixed. Will be back in a week or so._

_--Edward Elric_

He could see as plain as day right through the twelve year old's poor penmanship that the letter was nothing but a load of crap and the boy had went ahead and disobeyed his orders, making the headache that was invading his brain grow even more present and throbbing.

The Lieutenant Colonel could fee his teeth grit, the image of him snapping his fingers and giving the kid a good tan shooting through his pained skull. He gripped the piece of paper tightly, surely his knuckles turning a nasty shade of pale underneath his famed gloves.

He should have known better, but as they say, the alcohol got in the way. Severely.

Plans and strategies began making their way through his aching brain, he trying to choose which one would be the fastest and more appropriate. On one hand, he could go catch the kid and bring him back himself, but that would only piss off the higher ranks, leading to a lecture about why children shouldn't be involved with the military, and a possible demotion as well.

Scratch, had to think of something else. And quick too.

He could send some of his subordinated after them, but would they be strong enough to force the boys to come back to Central?

Scratch that too, there's no telling what that Full Metal was capable of, especially when he put his little prodigy mind to it.

Then there was the choice of just letting him go and learning the hard way not to fuck with Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang; but hell, if he wouldn't have saved his ass the last time, the kid wouldn't have lived to see his thirteenth birthday; well, he wouldn't have, but Kania would.

He shook his head, frustration beginning to kick in. He needed caffeine, something to get his clouded mind working. The onyx eyed man stood up, forcing his near lethargic body to walk to the outer office, hoping that Hawkeye would be awaiting him with a hot cup of caffeinated energy; but as he stepped out, he came to the realization that he was still alone, a thought which struck him as being strange. Where _was _Hawkeye? And Havoc? And everyone else?

The daylights were nearly scared out of him as he heard the phone ring in his office, clearly a sign that something was wrong if someone was calling to bother him this early. Reluctantly, he stalked back into the inner room and snatched up the phone, his voice clearly not awake.

"Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang," he stated into the receiver, his jet black eyes falling to the scribbled note the Elric boy had discarded on his desk. He was taken aback as the Fuhrer's voice met his ears.

"Lieutenant Colonel, sorry to bother you so early this morning, but a State emergency occurred last night, and I'm going to need you to lead a recovery team to the accident site," the deep voice ordered, his tone completely awake and professional.

"Yes, sir. Of course. May I ask what occurred?" he inquired, his brow narrowed, his voice dripping with curiosity.

"There was a train derailment approximately thirty miles southwest of Central near Destane. And from what I hear, it's not pretty. Your orders are to be carried out immediately," Fuhrer King Bradley informed the younger man, putting thoughts of the Full Metal alchemist on hold.

"Yes, sir," Mustang answered without hesitation, hanging up the phone. "Elric, if you've got anything to do with this…"

**Author's note : I don't know what to say at the moment, so I'll just say THANK YOU to hyperdude, Roy-Fan-33, Lyemi, agent000, Aemilia Rose, JChrys, Birth of Venus, Legendary Chimera, DarkSquire008, marufu-chan, TelevisionGod, Akamori-chan, vampirelf, Harryswoman and all the rest of you who put me on alert of your favs list. I appreciate the support so much, and am thankful for each of you that has taken the time to review and give me a little feedback. And those of you who are silent readers as well. ;) **

**I also want to thank those that reviewed my two one-shots so THANK YOU to cuylerjade, Roy-Fan-33, JChrys, Taydr- I LOVE FMA-ED IS My…, Demon-Dog, TelevisionGod, Lesdarian, AirElemental101, Roy-Fan-33, fullmetal-flame-lover, JChrys, lol, Aemilia Rose, and Demon-Dog. Thank you guys so much, and I appreciate those reviews as well. And at the current moment, I don't have plans to continue Cries From the Wastelands. It's a possibility, but this story's definitely getting finished before I start or continue anymore. But do expect more one-shots. :D**


	13. Running Towards the Storm

**Title : Whispers of a Nightmare**

**Genre : Anime/Manga**

**Category : Full Metal Alchemist**

**Disclaimer : Nope, this one belongs to someone else as well. **

**Summary : Takes place after the incident with Nina. Something's wrong with Ed, and Al just can't quite figure out what it is. Serious situations and angst ensue.**

**Warnings : Angst, mild language, violence, and other issues that shall go unnamed for now. I don't want to give away too much of the plot just yet, now do I? ;)**

**Rating : T **

**Chapter 13 : Running Towards the Storm**

Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang surveyed the scene in front of him, his onyx eyes narrowed in a squinting position. The sun had been up for a few hours and was casting its glorious morning rays down on the wreckage that lay before him, the bright light radiating through his already aching skull. Glass and steel were strewn about the dying grass, metal bent at odd angles sticking out from various amongst the debris.

Smoke still lingered from the remnants of the explosion that had caused a pretty nice fire, reports of the flames being spotted miles away. Most of the passengers had been accounted for, there being only a reported sixty-two on the train at the time. Out of all of them, most had been injured; though five were reported dead and ten still missing, thus, the reason for Mustang and his subordinates mission. Find the ten that were still buried somewhere in that carnage.

The smell in the air was none too pleasant either, a mix of metallic iron and overly burnt coal, which had spilled all over the tracks and the surrounding area. Mustang kicked a piece out of the way as he proceeded towards the wreckage, his subordinates already hard at work, digging their way through the debris.

"Any luck?" he asked, his usual smug expression being kept under wraps for the time being, due to the situation at hand.

"None so far, sir," Havoc replied, wiping sweat from his brow, trademark cancer stick placed tightly between his lips, the thought of actually smoking it not even crossing his mind. "This is like trying to find a needle in a haystack. There was definitely more train than there was people, that's for sure," the blonde man muttered while searching.

"Alert me if you find anything," Mustang ordered, thankful to have the rank he had. Even though he was only a Lieutenant Colonel, he still had five willing souls to do whatever he asked, or commanded for that matter. Careful not to break his neck, he made his way over to Hughes who had been called in for the investigation.

"Find anything unusual?" he inquired, crossing his arms across his chest, inwardly knowing that the answer would probably be no and his suspicions about the Elric brothers--Edward in particular--were more than likely falsities, much to his dismay.

"Not to ruin your hopes or anything, but no," Maes answered, standing to his feet. "But to be honest, I'll know more when this thing is cleaned up. It's too early to tell right now. I could give plenty of theories, but I've got no way of knowing until the debris is cleared," he stated, dusting his hands off. "By the way, which you should be doing, right?" he teased, raising an eyebrow.

Roy's eyes narrowed in response, his teeth starting to grit. "No, I was sent here to find survivors; not to be the clean up service," he bit back, his right hand threatening to snap.

"Hey, hey, cool it, Roy. What's got you so wound up?" Hughes questioned, raising his hands in defense.

"I just can't help but think Elric had something to do with this. I know his routine by now, and it seems that wherever there's some type of trouble or disaster, he's not very far from it," the onyx eyed man answered, his gaze drifting to the dense forest that surrounded them, the wind blowing mercilessly through the trees.

"Oh, come on, Roy!" the hazel eyed man scolded, a small grin crossing his lips. "You actually think Edward had something to do with this? That's insane! There's no way he could've done something like that. A train derailment? I think you've gone a bit too far this time."

"Really," Mustang started, his voice not questioning but stating his answer. "Well, then, maybe you can explain this," he shot back, the trademark smirk slowly sliding across his mouth, turning his lips up slightly as he pushed the crumpled piece of paper into Hughes' hands.

It only took a second for the other man to read it, the smile erased off his face. "Oh, well, then I guess this does change things a bit doesn't it?" Maes asked, one side of his mouth raising just a bit. "So, basically he defied your orders and left. Nice."

"Now do you understand the reasoning for my theory?" Roy queried, taking the letter back and comfortably stuffing it into a back pocket.

Hughes nodded meekly, scratching the back of his neck, unable to keep a small grin from playing over his features. "Well, when do we start the search?"

"As soon as this whole fiasco is over with," the Lieutenant Colonel answered back, his gaze resting on the wreckage again, his brow narrowing as something red caught his eye. He immediately moved forward, his heart beginning to race for reasons unbeknownst to even him. He'd seen that color red before, knew what it belonged to--who it belonged to.

He could feel his legs break out into a run as Hughes' voice called out faintly behind him. But he knew Maes would follow him anyways, therefore there was no need for a response. Cautiously making his way through the twisted and scrambled materials, his gloved hand found its way to the red piece of cloth, pushing against the steel it was trapped underneath of.

The jet-black haired man didn't know why he'd felt such panic travel through his central nervous system, but it did, forcing his heart beat to increase rapidly. His white gloves quickly became dusted with a shade of charcoal, working faster and faster to dig through the debris. He suddenly stopped when the piece of cloth ended, it turning out to be just a piece, a jagged section of the boy's red coat, filthy and charred on one edge.

"Roy, what's the matter?" Hughes questioned, kneeling down to eye level with the other man, a confused expression setting across his features. "Roy?" he repeated as the black haired man continued to stare at the small portion of red material in his hands. "Oh, no, hey!" Maes called out, signaling to the rescue team. "Over here!"

"No," Roy muttered, his eyes still glued to the charred remains of the jacket.

"What?" Hughes asked, the confused look growing wider, causing his brow to crease.

"No," Mustang repeated, slowly standing to his feet. "Don't. He's not here," he stated, his gaze drifting to the forest once more.

"What do you mean he's not here? How do you know he's not buried underneath all of that?" Maes questioned with a slight edge of anger in his tone, a hand going to his hip.

Mustang spotted another piece of the material not too far away, about ten yards or so, hanging from a branch on the edge of the forest. "They got away," he stated with a restless relief in his tone, his heart beat slowing down just enough so that a heart attack didn't presume. It didn't take long for the anger he held towards the boy to come back, already contemplating lectures and plans inside his utterly hung-over mind.

&&&&&

The sound of metal clanking entered the boy's ears, quite unsure of where it was coming from. It sounded so familiar, but at the moment, he couldn't figure out why. His mind was still subconsciously living in a dream; in a world where everything was alright and things were peaceful. There was no alchemy there, but that didn't bother him, strangely enough. But in this dream, he and Al were normal. Normal kids who didn't have a care in the world, and were free to laugh and run and just be.

He didn't remember a time such as what he was seeing now; not even in Risembool were things so serene and beautiful. The trees were a much brighter green and seemed alive in a way as the wind took their leaves and carried them across fields filled with rays of a golden sun, the warmth it gave off relaxing and soothing. He never recalled ever feeling something so wonderful before. And in the middle of it all, he and Al lay spread out, taking it all in.

But the noise of the moving metal was starting to drown out the quiet conversation they were carrying on, much to the twelve year old's annoyance. The faint noise was starting to grow louder, he fighting the urge to get back to that comfortable place in his mind. He could just hear Al saying something about a birthday party when the black void that was slowly consuming it darkened it all, Edward nearly crying out for it to come back.

He reluctantly opened his eyes only to find that the darkness still surrounded him, frightening him all the more. He let out a low gasp, nearly choking on his own breath when Al's quiet voice invaded his ears.

"It's just your hood, Brother," the clanking metal suit of armor explained, the eleven year old's voice soft and detained, and almost sad.

Edward blinked, letting calm ease over his speeding heart. Confusion settled on his brow once more as he realized he was not walking on his own two feet, but was actually being carried on his little brother's back, much to his dismay. The sudden feeling of being weak and small struck him, instantly making him struggle to get down, his independence waning.

"Don't, Brother, you can't walk on your own right now. You're leg's injured," Alphonse stated, a twinge of pain in his tone. He walked evenly and as carefully as he could, making sure not to move Edward too much.

"I'm fine, Al, just put me down!" the exclamation came out a little too loudly, his struggles still more than apparent as his stubbornness kicked into high gear. He continued to push out of Alphonse's hold on his legs, but his younger brother's strength was too much for him. "Come on, Al!" he tried again, a slight whining in his tone, making him sound a bit younger than twelve.

Al's patience had been on pins and needles as of late, and the more his older brother continued to push, the more the level of being able to deal with it dropped. The eleven year old always contained the ability to stay calm in almost any situation, his voice hardly ever rising or taking on a harsh tone. But the more Edward pushed against him, the more he was starting to want to push back, this unknown feeling disturbing him slightly.

With an airless sigh, his grip stayed strong, even against the smaller one's insistence. "You're injured, Brother. You _can't _walk," he repeated, an edge in his tone that wasn't there in his previous statement. "So just stay still."

"I can walk just fine, Al, and if you put me down, I can show you," the boy's petition for independence continued, still trying to get on his own two feet, the ability to ignore the pain in his throbbing leg uncanny.

Another sigh emanated from the large suit of steel, only this time, it contained a small percent of the anger that was being contained inside of it. "Okay, you know what, Ed, if that's what you want, then fine. _Here_," Alphonse finally gave in, his patience depleting to a level of zero as he sat his older brother down on the soft grass. He continued to walk, hearing the other's leg give out almost immediately. But the want to get Ed to realize that sometimes it was alright to rely on someone other than himself took over.

The pain hit the State alchemist instantaneously, his right leg throbbing painfully. His hand gripped it immediately, dried blood staining his already dirt covered gloves. _It doesn't hurt. I'm fine,_ he told himself, though as he tried to take his next step, the leg gave out completely, the rest of him tumbling to the ground. He grit his teeth in reflex, pushing himself back up into a standing position, knowing that he couldn't possibly be that weak and that quite possibly his leg had just been asleep; after all, from the looks of things, he must've been out for a while for daylight was entertaining his vision.

He trained his golden orbs on the large suit of armor that was consistently getting smaller and smaller the further Al continued to walk, this fact only irritating Edward even more, making him want to push the limits he'd already overstepped. He took another step, the pain electrocuting the nerves in his leg, forcing him to bite his lip to prevent from crying out.

"Dammit!" the pained whisper soon followed suit, his hand squeezing the wound that was starting to reopen. He pushed himself forward, his automail leg giving him slight trouble as well. His brow narrowed further in set determination, limping heavily as he followed his brother who had become a mere speck in his sight.

_No! _the inward shout rang through his straight-forward mind, not wanting to give into the weakness that had consumed his legs and was trying fitfully to conquer the rest of him. But he could feel the sweat already start to cloud his forehead, the saltine substance running down his cheeks immediately. His chest heaved in and out as he stumbled forward, catching himself on a low branch, barely able to keep standing.

His vision doubled for a second, pissing him off even more. He knew he was stronger than that. He knew it, but why didn't he feel it? He tried to shake it off, but the more he thought about it, the worse the feeling grew. The twelve year old left his crutch of a branch behind and lurched forward once more, this time a quiet whimper of his brother's name leaving his lips.

"Al!" he called out weakly, not wanting to admit defeat, but seemingly having no other choice. "Al!" Edward tried again, this time a bit louder, though a cough emanated from his lungs, forcing him to his knees. "Alphonse, I'm-I'm sorry, okay?" he stuttered a bit, reluctantly giving in.

The resolute suit of armor stopped and slowly turned around, disheartened at the state his older brother was in. It was enough to break his heart, if he had one. Seeing Edward as small and as weak as he was took him back to that night not too many years ago in Risembool, making him feel all the more worse for his older sibling. That was one of the only advantages of not having a mortal body, the inability to feel physical pain, though more times than not, he wished he could take away the pain that Edward was forced to feel, something to relieve the guilt that haunted him day after day.

Alphonse broke into a run, not realizing how far ahead he'd actually gotten from Ed, his soul sinking even deeper; though a part of him hoped that Ed would finally learn a lesson in humility, if that were at all possible. He carefully picked up the fallen twelve year old, much to the other's dismay, and placed him back in his original spot before he had insisted on getting down.

"How's that?" the eleven year old asked, pulling his trembling brother closer to the back of his armor, all the while hoping that it didn't get too cold or Edward would more than likely freeze.

"It's fine, thanks," Ed mumbled, already feeling humiliated for having to have his little brother carry him because his own two legs were too weak to hold him up.

They walked in silence for awhile before Edward spoke again, albeit reluctantly.

"Al, I'm…I'm…"

"It's okay, Brother. I understand," Alphonse politely interjected, knowing how much it pained Ed to utter those two and a half words. All their lives, it always had been and probably always would be. He never knew someone so stubborn. Ever.

"But I am. For everything," the blonde continued, his face crestfallen, his golden eyes downcast. "I'm sorry I got us into this whole mess. I just want to fix things so badly," he stated, his tone laced with anger but filled with woe at the same time. He could feel his tear ducts try to open, swallowing a mouthful of saliva with hopes it would choke them back.

"I know, Ed, and we will. But I know that it won't happen overnight, no matter how much we want it to. We have to be patient, and if we have to take things slow, then we will. That's just the way it'll have to be," the eleven year old explained softly, sounding more and more like he was the older brother instead of vice versa.

"But it's not fair!" the sharp, pained remark flew out of Ed's mouth faster than he could contain it, built up emotion suddenly trying to burrow its way out. "It's not fair that you have to stay like that, Al! It's wrong!" He tried to shut up, to contain all the words that were pouring out of his mouth, but the more he tried to close it and stay quiet, the faster they came, along with the tears he was so desperately trying to conceal. "It should have been me! It was my stupid idea, and my fault! It should have been me!" He let the tears roll down his cheeks, letting it mingle with the sweat that had already accumulated on them. His warm forehead leaned against the cool metal before him, his hands gripping Al's steel shoulders without realizing it. "It should have been me…" he whispered, his voice breaking, his head lightly banging against the smooth metal.

"Brother!" Alphonse scolded in a flabbergasted tone. "How could you say something like that?" he questioned, knowing he would have gone into cardiac arrest if he still had his mortal shell. "Brother," he stated in a more calming tone. "I believe that everything happens for a reason, and even though we created the reason for the situation we're in now; we have to learn from our mistakes. I felt guilty too after we failed, but then I realized that there's nothing we can do but try and find a solution. If all we do is meddle in our problems, then how does that change anything? It doesn't, but we still have to continue on. No matter what."

"Why do you always do this to me?" Edward muttered quietly, his lips smearing against the back of the armor as he weakly pushed his head up.

"Do what to you, Ed?" Al asked, confusion tainting his voice, trying his best to look back at his brother all the while knowing it was an impossible task.

"Make me feel so stupid," the twelve year old answered, going back to gently banging his head against the armor, inwardly hoping it would knock some type of sense into him.

"Oh! Ed, don't say that," Alphonse said with the tiniest hint of a roll in his soul-filled eyes.

"But it's true," the blonde continued, gripping the steel tighter. "Thanks, Al."

"For what?" the confusion continued in his tone, unsure of where his brother was going with the gratefulness.

"For always being there for me. Whenever I need you," he muttered, trying not to grimace as pain shot through his leg again. "And for coming with me."

The suit of armor remained speechless for a moment, not knowing whether to laugh or feel sad, or cry, if he could, that is. Instead, he continued forward, his gaze drifting up to the clouding sky. The immediate need to find shelter ran through his mind, his pace quickening a bit, but still remaining cautious with the small load that was on his back.

"How's your leg?" the eleven year old queried, nearly breaking out into a run as fat droplets of rain began pouring down on them.

"It's--" Edward's response was cut off by a low grunt of pain, one hand immediately shooting to the wound. "It could be better," he answered, gritting his teeth. "But I'll be alright," he added, feeling warm blood seep into the material of his glove.

"I think I see something up ahead. We're almost there," Al stated, reaching back to pull Ed's hood over his head.

"Hey!"

"I don't want you getting sick again, Brother. It was bad enough the last time!" he half-joked, thankful for the deserted train station that lay less than twenty yards away from them. He couldn't help but let out a low chuckle as he heard a grunt respond from underneath the red jacket. It didn't take long to reach the rickety old thing, making Alphonse wonder why and how long it had been like that. Finding a spot where the roof didn't leak, he gently set Edward down, holding a steel arm out just in case the boy's leg gave out like it did before. "Sit down, Ed. Let me take a look at it," Al instructed softly, pulling his brother's hood off his semi-wet hair.

Edward surprisingly did as he was told, slowly lowering himself to the cracked wooden floor. He clenched his jaw as pain snaked sporadically through his leg, forcing him to choke back the gasp of pain that had been lingering on his lips. His golden orbs slowly met the wound, two large parallel gashes careening jaggedly from his upper thigh that wound around to the back of his leg, almost down to his knee. He could finally see now why walking had been crossed off his to-do list.

"That looks pretty bad, Ed," Alphonse's soft voice wafted through his ears, immediately searching inside their briefcase for something to wrap it with. "This'll have to do," he announced, pulling out one of Ed's spare undershirts. He easily ripped it in two and tied it tightly around the wound, much to Ed's sudden mobility. "It's okay, Brother, it'll only take a second," he tried to soothe, knowing it'd be unachievable.

"Sure feels like it's taking a little longer than that, don't ya think?" the blonde questioned through grit teeth, his eyes glued to the skin-tight, make-shift bandage Alphonse was wrapping his leg with.

"There, I'm done," Al stated, finishing up. "But you're really going to have to get that looked at when we make it to town. You might need stitches."

"No, I'm good," Edward stated, one hand shooting up in the air in front of him in a defensive gesture. "So…um, what exactly happened last night because I'm kind of drawing a blank," the blonde queried, scratching the back of his head, his eyes still drifting towards his leg.

"Well, the train derailed and we were lucky enough to get thrown away from most of it, but not all of it," the eleven year old explained, albeit reluctantly as he closed the suitcase. "When I found you, your leg was trapped under a piece of the steel. I pulled it off as fast as I could, but it had already gotten the best of you. I left the minute I heard the first rescuers arrive, though I guess we should have stayed so you could've gotten that looked at," he added, a hint of guilt in his tone.

"Hey, it's no big deal, Al. I mean, I've had worse, right?" Edward piped up, trying his best to erase the forlorn expression in his brother's soul-filled eyes. "I'm still alive and kicking, it's just a scratch!" he shrugged off the wound, accidentally hitting it a little harder than he originally intended, the pain magnifying tenfold.

"That's not a scratch, Ed," Alphonse stated, his voice hanging between deathly serious and abundantly afraid. "That piece of cloth isn't going to hold your skin together forever, and plus, it really needs to be cleaned too. You don't want to risk getting an infection."

"Yeah, one of those, and Winry'll have to slap another one of these on me," he muttered, his voice dripping with utter sarcasm as he patted his automail leg.

"That's not funny, Brother," the slightly angered tone emanated from the steel shell. "The last thing we need is you losing another limb." He paused for a moment, pulling the map from the suitcase.

"How far are we from Kiase?" Edward asked, leaning over a bit to get a better look at the piece of paper, lightning giving him just enough light to read it.

"I think we're right here," Al said, pointing to a rather desolate looking area on the map, a gloved hand going to his steel chin. "And Kiase is all the way over here," he stated, tracing an imaginary line from their estimated position to their destination.

"So basically what you're telling me is that we're lost," the twelve year old chimed in, giving up and laying on his back, pain searing through his flesh limb.

"We're not lost…I'm just not exactly sure _where _we're at," Alphonse explained, a tinge of confusion in his voice as he stared at the map intently, knowing that he honestly didn't have a clue as to their precise location.

"We're lost," Ed stated in a factual tone, a sigh escaping his exhausted body. He shivered as a gust of wind blew throughout the weak building, the sound of thunder somehow calming to his ears. The boy closed his eyes, taking in the song of the rain, his stomach growling right along with it. Ignoring the plea for hunger, he turned on his side, knowing full well he was being watched, or observed as Al liked to call it. "Why are you staring at me?" the blonde asked, quite bluntly, not even bothering to open his eyes.

"I shouldn't have to explain it to you. You should already know," the haunted words came from the soul-filled suit of steel. Al stood up, this time earning a look from his older brother.

"Where are you going?" the curiousness poured from the twelve year old's tone, pushing himself up a bit.

"To find you something to eat," the younger sibling replied simply, exiting the weathered building.

"Al! I'm fine!" Edward called after him. Frustration slowly crept through the twelve year old's already irritated mind. "Come on, you idiot! Get back here!" he tried again, pushing himself up into a standing position when he realized he still wasn't being listened to. He stumbled to the entryway, the door gone off its hinges ages ago. "Alphonse! Dammit, Al," he muttered, the suit of armor already lost in the forestry green. Feeling defeated, angry, and strangely alone, he hobbled back to the place where he'd been laying, regretfully returning to his original position. He curled into a tight ball, the pain continuing to pulsate through his leg. For the first time in a while, he was afraid to go to sleep, images already stirring in the back of his mind.

**Author's note : Wow. That's pretty much all I can say. Oh, and THANK YOU to every single one of you who reviewed. You all are so wonderful to me, and I deeply appreciate your continuous support of this story, and the various one-shots I have put out. You all are amazing, and I thank you for taking time out to leave me feedback and tell me how I'm doing. **

**So, here goes. THANK YOU to Jaz the Wolf, Akamori-Chan, cuylerjade, TayloWolf, Lyemi, hyperdude, Roy-Fan-33, JChrys, agent000, Aemilia Rose, Legendary Chimera, vampirelf, OrangeKittyAlchemist-Sony, TelevisionGod, Harryswoman, .Kleptomaniacal, Kagome92111, Birth of Venus, marufu-chan, Shattered Mirror01, DarkAmber112, American-Idiot14, ThePatheticWriter, and all of you who have faved me or put me on your alert list. You guys are probably getting sick of me saying this, but seriously; THANK YOU:D **

**I think I've got a pair of horror one-shots on the way, so we'll see what happens. Until next time. Oh, wait, I already do. ;)**


	14. Reverie of Abandonment

**Title : Whispers of a Nightmare**

**Genre : Anime/Manga**

**Category : Full Metal Alchemist**

**Disclaimer : Nope, this one belongs to someone else as well. **

**Summary : Takes place after the incident with Nina. Something's wrong with Ed, and Al just can't quite figure out what it is. Serious situations and angst ensue.**

**Warnings : Angst, mild language, violence, and other issues that shall go unnamed for now. I don't want to give away too much of the plot just yet, now do I? ;)**

**Rating : T **

**Chapter 14 : Reverie of Abandonment **

The grey sky that flashed with purple streaks every so often did nothing to lighten the eleven year old's mood. Even if Edward did chide him sometimes on his often bleak outlook, the direction they were heading in was a road he was reluctantly taking, and once again, wished they weren't.

The situations he was contemplating were not pleasant. Just the thought of his older brother laying back in that two-bit shack of a train station made him feel bad enough, probably cold and surely hungry, but Ed was in no condition to be out there in the mess of a storm, especially with that leg wound.

He was actually shocked that with all the cuts and wounds Edward had received throughout their years that the twelve year old just wasn't one big scar. Hell, he had to have them all over him as many times as he got himself into trouble. And that was before their pleasant beginning with the military. In the small amount of time the State alchemist had served under Lieutenant Colonel Mustang, Ed had managed to get himself into many a situation, bringing less than happy thoughts to mind.

Alphonse shook his metal helmet, not understanding how one person could attract so much chaos and mayhem to their life. But then again, this was Edward he was thinking about, so technically, anything was possible with him.

Thunder rumbled in the distance of his mind, thoughts of the situation at hand rising to the surface. They were lost; that had been easily established judging that Al had no idea as to how far he had walked from the train wreck. It could have been ten miles or twenty; the only thing he knew was that he'd walked for a good eight hours before Ed came to so the exact mileage was lost on him.

_If only that stupid old train station was on the map, _the thought crossed his mind as he waded across a small pond, actually having no idea as to what to get for Ed. His soul-filled eyes darkened slightly at the thought, the well-being of his brother currently at the top of his priority list, even if he was still severely pissed at him.

_Why isn't he eating? He's never been like this before…well, not for awhile anyway. Why didn't I remember that?_ He quickly became encased in his thoughts, memories of the past eerily swirling about his mind.

Without even attempting, he was taken back to the days just after their mother passed, suddenly recalling all the feelings and emotions that he had been forced to go through back then. Even if they weren't the greatest ones in the world, at least he could do that; feel something.

He couldn't quite remember the feeling of being cold or hungry, both of those lost on his metal shell; but he could recollect the sadness of her being gone, and the odd sense of loneliness that ensued. And the fear that would beat in his heart every night before he fell asleep, tears aplenty in his woe-filled eyes.

It didn't last long, but for the first few weeks afterward, his brother didn't eat. Even when they'd go to the Rockbells for lunch or dinner or whatever meal it was that needed to be consumed, the boy would just stare at the full plate with a lost yet determined look in his eyes; Alphonse never understanding why. That habit continued until Aunt Pinako forced the child to eat, but even then, he still would refrain from trying.

The only thing that made him start again was Al threatening to do the same as him; that comment nearly sending his older brother into a stupor.

"_No, you idiot! You gotta eat something!" the small blonde's voice struck his younger brother's ears as the other boy just stared at his plate, arms folded across his chest with a if-you-can-do-it-I-can-too look, his lips holding the faintest trace of a pout. _

"_I'm not hungry, Brother," Alphonse replied simply, his stomach humbly rumbling underneath the table, praying that Edward would just give in already. How long had they been going on like this? Half and hour or so…_

"_Whatever! Don't lie, Al!" Ed scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest as well. "'Cause I know you are! I can hear your stomach from here!" he added, an almost smug look set upon his ever-so-youthful features._

"_I don't know what you're talking about, Brother. I'm just fine. I don't think I'll eat anything for the next three days," the younger boy commented, a confident expression teasing his lips, making it almost appear as though he were smiling._

"_Now you're just being dumb," the ten year old stated in a matter-of-fact tone, turning his nose up at the younger boy that sat across the table from him._

"_Oh really?" Alphonse questioned, lifting his gaze from the table to his older brother whose eyes had taken on a more serious quality, a hint of sadness surfacing in his haunted golden orbs. "So what you're saying is that it's okay for you to not eat, but it's 'not' okay for me. Right?" he asked with a lopsided grin on his cherubic face._

_Edward had to think about this for a moment, knowing Alphonse spoke in such a way sometimes that he was getting tricked into either one, telling the truth; or two, making a complete and utter fool of himself; which of course his little brother would do to him when he felt the elder one needed some form of humility. Therefore, he chose his next words carefully, hoping that he surpassed his little brother's expectations._

"_Right," he nodded in agreement, his eyebrows narrowing as the smug expression found its way to Al's face and was wiped off his own. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?" the smaller blonde questioned, leaning on his elbows now with his hands flat against his cheeks. _

"_Because Ed," he replied, shaking his head and stifling a chuckle. "Sometimes I wonder how you're so good at alchemy, but can't understand anything I try to say," he muttered, a few teeth showing through the smile he was trying to hide._

"_It's not funny!" Edward's expression turned even more serious as he pushed himself up from the table as quickly as he could, dizziness smacking him straight across the cheek. He stumbled as he stepped away from the wooden décor, having to hold onto another piece of furniture because he couldn't walk by himself. A pained look tainted his youthful features as he continued to attempt to stand, but the dizziness and aching in his head was just too much, sending him down to his knees._

_The smile swiftly faded off of Al's face, his eyes falling downcast at the state his older brother was in. He felt guilt, but inwardly knew that Edward himself should have known better than to do something like that; but then again, it was always actions and words with him, followed by thoughts. _

_Letting out a sigh, the younger of the two rose to his feet, slowly making his way over to his downed sibling. Bending down, he reached Ed's level, his heart nearly breaking at the sight of the fresh tears that were rolling down the other's cheeks and the shaking shoulders that pursued._

"_Ed, hey, it's okay. I'm sorry," the nine year old's voice came out a bit unsteady as he gently put his hand on the older boy's back, giving it a slight squeeze. _

"_No, it's not," Edward shot back through grit teeth, his eyebrows now narrowed to their limit. The trembling that consumed his upper body quickly made its way to the rest of him, his skin ice cold to the touch. Tear after tear graced his semi-pale cheeks, his golden eyes casting a stiff gaze towards the empty bed where their mother had rested on until the day she died, his orbs instantly darkening. _

"_I miss her too, Brother, but I can't starve myself just because she's not here anymore. It's not healthy, and besides, do you honestly think Mom would want you to do that?" the innocent tone met the older blonde's ears, his expression becoming even and unreadable. "She may be gone, Ed, but we still have to take care of ourselves. That's what she would have wanted."_

_Alphonse's words wafted through the back of the older boy's mind, his eyes moving back and forth quickly as though he were reading something important, though nothing was there but an empty bed and a chilled-over window. A horrible sounding sob emanated from the ten year old's throat, Al's eyes widening at the eerie, completely woe-filled sound, even more surprised that it was coming from Ed. _

"_Bro…ther?" his question came out slowly and confused, his brow narrowed in worry. "Ed?" he tried once more, seeing the impending storm that was beginning to play out on his brother's features. First came the quivering of the lips, then the slightly opened mouth that looked ready to explode at any moment, and then finally the flood of crystalline tears overflowing from the saddened golden orbs. Without so much as a second thought, Alphonse wrapped his arms around his smaller, older brother; edging the blonde's head into his chest. Ed reluctantly followed suit, another sob, though this time muffled due to Al's shirt, ensuing sadly._

"_It's okay, Ed," he soothed, running his fingers through his brother's soft, golden locks, his eyes watering at the sounds Edward was making. He could almost hear his heart breaking into hundreds of tiny little pieces, not understanding why he felt so awful. "It's alright."_

"_No, she's gone, Al. She's gone," the ten year old repeated over and over, his voice trembling just as much as his body was, his arms still hanging limply at his sides. _

"_Ed, stop it," Alphonse murmured, albeit uncomfortably, pulling his brother closer to him, if that were even possible. An eerie shill rose around him at his brother's next words, inwardly knowing the second he'd heard them, his life would inevitably change._

"_But we're going to bring her back," the blonde stated through a clenched jaw, the saddened sobs coming to a standstill, his voice utterly and unmistakably serious. A fire erupted in his golden orbs, seemingly casting its strangely magnificent light in his younger brother's face, though only fear followed suit in the younger boy's heart. _

Something in his brother had changed that day, but it wasn't until shortly afterwards that Alphonse found out what had truly happened. Thus, the reasoning for him being trapped in the metal shell that he fit so uncomfortably into at the moment.

And quite possibly, he could have hated the older brother who had no other way of keeping his one and only sibling alive; but he didn't, Edward did what he had to do. Al didn't even want to imagine what Ed would have turned out like if he would have vanished too. The thought frightened him all the more as he advanced farther into the wooded area, tracing his steps so he could remember his way back to the abandoned train station.

Spotting a narrow but efficient looking stream, he made his way over to it, thankful to see a few small but at least edible fish, making their way down it. Moving quickly and swiftly, even for a suit of armor his size, he easily caught a few, surprised at how well his abilities had magnified. The first time he ever even tried to catch a fish went horribly wrong, and even then, he didn't get to eat it. But that was then, and this was now; as he continued to learn the longer they continued on their search.

The rain was starting to lighten up a bit as he made his way back the train station, the light trickle of rain on the changing tree leaves soothing in a way. He only dreamed of smelling that fresh, fall air; so many memories passing throughout his soul it hurt. And the longing only grew; as it did each day, more and more painful as time progressed. But he had faith, surprisingly, after all they had been through. Though secretly, his faith was in Edward, knowing that somehow, he'd be able to figure it all out.

The wind whistled through the flowing trees, the air whirling about him, though no sensation flooded throughout his system. He walked on, his metal shell clanking loudly, even though he was trying his hardest to remain quiet.

Even though Ed meant well, there was just something about this trip that didn't seem right; and that fact couldn't be overlooked the derailment of the train they were on. It just seemed to be too much of a coincidence to the eleven year old. It was dark, of course, but there was plenty of visibility; but perhaps there were variables that he hadn't had the ability to see. This thought struck him as strange, but he couldn't help the feeling that it was true. What if there had been something in the train's way? Something that made the conductor veer off course maybe? But if that were true, what could it have been? Or who?

The feeling that was slowly snaking its way through the shell of armor he bore could best be called fear, though as the trees and shrubs continued to brush against his metallic body, he had the feeling that he was being watched. He stopped suddenly, casting a glance around him, though nothing unusual or strange met his line of sight; but the notion just wouldn't go away. The eleven year old carefully caught his original pace, but the sensation that someone was right behind him wouldn't leave his thoughts.

It only took a second for the unmistakable darkness to hit him as he plummeted, falling into a depth of unknown origins, crashing helplessly down within the soft earth below. In the back of his mind, he knew he was still too far away from the station for his older brother to hear his scream.

&&&&&

He lay there, shivering and evidently cold, though his stubborn musings would not allow him to believe that fact. The twelve year old told himself that the reason his body was shivering was that it was simply going into the first stage of shock, due simply to the wound his leg had been forced to adhere to. But that small voice that one would call a conscience told him that he in fact was cold--freezing, to be exact, and that warmth was duly needed. But in his usual nonchalant way, he ignored it, continuing to lay there and quiver miserably.

Edward slowly opened his glazed over eyes, watching the fine mist that spiraled from his lips every time he exhaled. He watched it float a few inches from his face until it finally disappeared into thin air, more continuing to follow suit. He slowly reached an ungloved hand up to his trembling lips, they cold to the touch. He exhaled a little harder as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, the restlessness getting the better of him.

Images flashed through the background of his mind, making him almost thankful that his eyes refused to close. Faded pictures of his mother and Alphonse smiling and happy arose like mist off the top of a lake in his head, his mouth opening slightly at the thought.

_No,_ he told himself, knowing this wasn't the time or place to think of such things. Besides, he was by himself, which could only make the situation worse. He knew that to be fact, recalling old childhood memories from the depths of his mind. And the fact that he was in an abandoned train station in the middle of nowhere made things seem even more dim.

His golden eyes, appearing grey thanks to the din of his surroundings, gazed around the old facility, an eerie sensation chilling his soul. Now that he was alone, it was as though the presence of the place seemed slightly alive again. He could almost hear the faint sounds of a train on the track when something else caught his attention. Out of the corner of his eye, a face appeared at the window, too suddenly for him to react in a normal way; though nothing ever was truly normal about the twelve year old.

His breath leaving him faster than he could intake more, he pushed himself to his feet, his heart racing. "Hey!" he shouted out weakly, instantly annoyed at the sound of his own voice. He couldn't ever recall sounding that pathetic. "Hey, you!" he tried once more, his volume level barely raising a notch. "Dammit!" he muttered, limping heavily over to the cobwebbed and broken window.

He peered out, a faint shadow moving through the wooded area that surrounded him. The twelve year old couldn't quite make anything out about the individual, but that didn't stop the sudden flood of curiosity that ran through his being. Knowing better but doing it anyway, he started to run, the pain electrocuting his leg a little more than he could bare. But he shoved it away as he usually did, the want to find out who had looked in upon him greater than the need to rest his leg.

He clumsily stumbled out of the station, tumbling straight down the three steps that led to the ground. He landed with a light thud in the dirt, throwing his hands out in front of him so his face wouldn't also turn the color of the ground. Gritting his teeth as he pushed himself up, he followed the sound of the moving brush, though with the wind singing in his ears, the task was becoming nearly impossible.

Tears flocked to his eyes, the rushing wind and the sprinkling of rain doing nothing to aid him. But the boy didn't have time to wipe the slight aggravation from his cheeks; too wrapped up in the person that lay not too far ahead of him. He pushed himself forward, feeling something warm run down his leg, inwardly knowing that the wound had reopened thanks to his sudden movement.

The breath that his lungs so immediately craved was lost on him, he too consumed with the stranger that taunted him from the window. The only thing on his mind was finding the person and asking them what the hell they were doing out there, and after he was done ranting and raving, possibly asking for a little help in the process. But the further he got into the woods, the darker it seemed to get.

This stuck him as a bit strange because he knew that there had been some light overhead, though it could just possibly be that the forest had grown thicker and there just wasn't enough room for any rays from the grey sky to break through. But as he continued, the air also became the same; thicker and harder to breathe, as though all the humidity from the rain was gathered there in that one spot, his chest aching in response.

His vision blurred slightly as he went in further, darkness surrounding him on all sides now; fear rising up in the back of his throat. The twelve year old could hear himself wheezing, the air almost too thick to take in; but he stumbled forward, elegantly tripping over a tree root that had made its way out of the aged earth. He landed hard on the ground, pain streaming through his right leg, a howl of agony emanated from his lips.

Edward clenched his jaw and grit his teeth, second thoughts about continuing after the stranger running through his mind. His brow narrowed as determination set back in, he refusing to give up since he'd already got so far in. The boy pushed himself up, feeling sweat trickle down his body, yet knowing how cold it was.

Due to the excess in pain, his ability to run was hampered slightly, his run turning into a deformed walk, his right leg dragging more than evidently behind him. He clasped his hand to the wound thought the blood continued to leak through his fingers, a bad feeling arising in the pit of his stomach; but the sound of curiosity was just too much, so he followed it, a break in the trees coming into view.

What sat before him was something he was not expecting to see, his heart literally stopping dead in his chest for a split second. His golden eyes, the color of the setting sun were wide yet narrowed on the two story house that lay not too far away. Vaguely, he could see the shadow stranger he had been chasing run through the house's open door, leaving him to gape momentarily.

At that very second, he knew it was a dream. A horrible delusion created by the subconscious world he was temporarily living in. And even though he had the realization that it was in fact, just a dream, his brain was forcing him to think otherwise.

He didn't want to go in there, into the house that he and Alphonse had destroyed with the help of fire the night they set out for Central. But there it was, mocking him as it stood there in plain sight, chilling him straight to the bone.

Ed could see his breath spiraling from his lips once more as he slowly and seemingly involuntarily moved towards the picture perfect place, not the one that had been reduced to ashes as his mind had suddenly erased. His footsteps were sluggish and uneven, the fact that his right leg was pretty much useless at the moment making him feel even more nauseas.

For after what seemed like hours, he reached the door of the house, it swinging back and forth slightly as though wind were moving it in its gentle breeze, though no air touched Edward's skin. It was dead still and eerily silent, his heart pounding in his ears, almost so loud, he could hardly hear himself think.

The rational part of his mind told him not to go in, to just run back to the abandoned train station and wake up; but the irrational side--the one that he usually listened to, urged him to go inside, reminding him that there was obviously something he needed to see.

Instantly regretting the decision his brain had forced him to make, he entered the house, everything looking exactly as it had when he was younger. It was surprisingly warm, and the scent of his mother's fresh baked bread invaded his nostrils, fear making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

This just wasn't fair, and he knew it. Having to see and smell and hear all those things that were ancient to him now; he hated it, yet there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it but go forward and find what was waiting for him; what he was being forced to see or recall.

The sound of crying met his ears, though it wasn't the faint woe-filled sadness that he would sometimes come from his mother--no, this was a little girl, the sound of a little girl crying…

"Nina," the name trembled from Edward's lips, his eyes immediately watering. His golden eyes drifted towards the stairs, definitely the origin of the disturbance. Reluctantly, his legs took him there, the pain in his leg almost bringing him to his knees, but one by one, he made his way up the steps, the sound of his footfalls echoing in the back of his mind.

His hands shook stiffly as he held onto the banister for support, so many thoughts and memories coming back to him that he could hardly contain them, but the thought of Nina being upstairs helpless and alone drug him away from that other reality.

The crying grew louder the further he ascended, finally making it to the last step, his heavy boot hanging in mid-air, hesitant to set foot on it. Closing his eyes, his body guiltily forced him up one last time, the sound of his shoe landing on the wooden floor resounding throughout his ears.

The door to the room that he and Alphonse shared hung drearily open at the end of the hallway, fear tickling his spine. The blonde could already feel the fresh tears stinging his cheeks though had no clue as to why they were truly there. He could feel his shoulders shaking as continued on, though after every door he passed, he could hear voices emanating from them.

His mother's and father's voices wafted thinly from their room, followed by the sound of his mother crying and his father's receding footsteps. As he passed by his and Alphonse's forgotten playroom, he could hear their childish laughs making their way innocently to his ears, forcing him to feel the guilt and frustration of losing what lay beyond that door. They'd given up that life a long time ago.

After what seemed like hours though it took only mere seconds, he made it to the last door, the only one that held an invitation for him to come in. And reluctantly, he did, his golden orbs falling on the lone figure in the room.

She was curled up into a ball in the corner, her long auburn locks swaying back and forth as she shook, her low cries filled with pain and sorrow. He immediately felt regret at this--for everything, not understanding why he was here in the first place; but none of that stopped him from going to her, reaching out a comforting but shaking hand to soothe her.

"Nina?" the twelve year old's voice came out shaky and oddly pained, tears glistening in his eyes. "Nina, everything's gonna be alright, okay?" he tried to comfort her, afraid of what was impending.

"Big Bruthor?" she asked weakly in her childlike fervor, lifting her head up from her hands. Her face looked as youthful and as innocent as ever, no trace of the horrible being she had been transformed into apparent.

"Yeah, it's me, Nina," he offered, forcing a fake smile to appear on his lips, gently placing a hand on her head. "It's okay, I promise. I won't let anything hurt you," the words poured slowly but shakily from his lips, a sob threatening to leave his throat.

"I'm scared, Big Bruthor," she stated, her lips quivering as she pushed her face into his chest, her small body trembling underneath him.

"Why? I'm here to protect you," Edward stated through grit teeth, fear of the unknown populating his soul.

"It's coming for me!" Nina blurted out, throwing her arms around him and squeezing his crimson colored jacked tight, the material bunching up in her tiny hands.

"What's coming for you, Nina?" he questioned, his tone laced with the fear that was traveling through his blood stream at the speed of light, his body shaking almost as much as hers.

"That!" she screamed, breaking out of his embrace and scrunching into the corner as tight as she could fit, evident fear plastered across her four year old features. "Stop it, Big Bruthor! Stop it!" she shouted shrilly, burying her face into her hands once again.

He saw the shadow come over him, casting its horrific likeness against the corner that Nina cowered in. It wasn't an instantaneous realization, more of an instinctual one, to be exact.

Edward turned slowly, gleaming emerald eyes filled with hate, pain, and disgust glowering back at him from half of a face melted into singed metal. A seemingly plastic grin lit up the thing, blackened teeth meeting his terrified golden orbs, a whimpering sound gently leaking from his lips.

"Hello, Edward," the creature stated through the horrible grin, slowly moving towards him in a twitchy, spider-like movement. "So nice to see you again," the woman's throaty voice made its way to his ears, one of her disfigured hands reaching out towards him.

His body froze on him, just like that; tears automatically cascading down his hollowed out cheeks without a second thought. The twelve year old trembled more than he ever had in his life, sitting there on his knees, unable to voluntarily move a muscle, numbness floating over his body. A stray sob broke free of his quivering lips, and something that almost sounded like a scream had it not been cut off by the creature's hand violently hitting him across the face.

His head slammed lazily into the wall, his golden eyes fading. He could hear a tiny voice trickle from his lips like the last sip from a cup. "I'm sorry, Nina," it whispered before everything went black.

Edward sat up quickly, unable to avoid the crying and shaking that his battered and abused body was rendering itself to. His sobs echoed off the old train station's walls, leaking through the cracks it had sustained from years of no use. His chest rose up and down quickly, the breath spiraling faster and faster from his parted and slightly chapped lips. The only thing he wanted right now was Alphonse, to just hear his reassuring voice would be enough, but as the twelve year old looked around the station, he realized he was still alone, making the sobs and tears come faster.

Almost to the point of hyperventilating, he pushed himself up, not caring about the wound on his leg anymore. He just wanted to find his little brother and get the hell out of there. He weakly staggered to the entryway and down the steps, mustering up just enough strength to pull off the wooden rail, using it for support.

Blindly(thanks to the annoying saltine substance in his eyes), he stumbled across the tracks and into the forestry, hoping that Al wasn't too far away. He needed him right now, and the thought of not finding him nearly scared him to death. Panting heavily, he forced himself through the thick brush and towering forest of trees, stopping dead in his tracks when he heard his brother's scream echo through his ears.

&&&&&

"Yes, sir. The majority of the wreckage has been removed, and all of the passengers accounted for except for two," Mustang explained, his voice traveling the distance of thirty or so miles across the phone line and directly into Fuhrer King Bradley's ears.

"Go on, Lieutenant," the Fuhrer stated, his dark brow narrowing slightly at the young man's choice of words.

"The passenger list stated that there were two persons on board by the names of Nathan and Sage Jackson, known to be the aliases of the pair of serial killers that were arrested last year of murdering more than thirty women in the small time frame of just thirty days. Their real identities were that of Shane Merlow and Jonathan Dase, and it just so happens that those two reportedly escaped from Prison #3 two nights ago," the Lieutenant Colonel continued on, extracting the exact words of his year old report from memory.

"I see. Well, Lieutenant, it sounds as though you have a pair of serial killers to apprehend. Do whatever means necessary to bring them back to Central. We wouldn't want history to repeat itself, now would we?" Bradley's voice gave hint to a faint touch of amusement, an eyebrow raising on Mustang's part.

"No, sir," the Lieutenant replied, his tone laced with a tinge of excitement though keeping his cool, thankful that the Fuhrer actually bought what he was selling.

"Though I know it shouldn't take you the better part of three days to find these gentlemen, I'm giving you and your team one week to find them. And I'd like a daily report of your findings as well, Lieutenant."

"Understood, sir. Thank you, sir," Mustang stated, letting the phone travel back to its base, still not understanding how he managed to do what he had just done. He turned away from the phone upon hearing footsteps approach him from behind, Hughes worried yet smiling face appearing before him.

"Well?" he questioned with an air of confidence, a hand going to his hip as he raised a curious eyebrow.

"He bought it," Roy announced, letting a small but noticeable smirk travel across his lips, his arms folding across his chest.

"Even the part about the mess being cleaned up?" Maes questioned, gesturing towards the debris that was still scattered about the tracks.

"Even that," Mustang replied with a nod, the smirk wasting away as he saw some of the personnel loading the dead into a military vehicle.

"So when do you leave?" Hughes inquired, pushing his sliding glasses further up on the bridge of his nose.

"You aren't coming?" the Lieutenant Colonel asked with a narrowed brow, his onyx eyes filled with unanswered questions and not enough information to compensate them.

"No, I think I'm gonna stay here for a little while longer. See if I can't figure out what really happened. I don't know why, but something's really bothering me about this whole thing, especially if Ed and Al were involved. But don't forget me while you're on your trip. You know how me and information go so nicely together," was Hughes response, a grin spreading from cheek to cheek.

Mustang nodded at this, unfolding his arms. "Tonight. We leave tonight."

**Author's note : Man, this one didn't want to end on me either! Hope Ed's nightmares aren't annoying anyone. But I don't make him have them for nothing! ;)**

**THANK YOU all so much for your continuous support; and I just want to answer one question that I've received more than once : How long is this story going to be? I honestly don't know; but there's a good possibility that the answer to that could be thirty chapters, or if I dare to even say it, fifty-one, in correlation with the number of episodes of the anime. But at this point, it's suffice to say that it's gonna be awhile. **

**Okay, 'nuf of that. **

**THANKS go to Zion, Lyemi, Aemilia Rose, Akamori-chan, ThePatheticWriter, Roy-Fan-33, demoncastaway, Shattered Mirror01, hyperdude, Birth of Venus, Me and My God Complex, vampirelf, Legendary Chimera, Kagome92111, Harryswoman, TelevisonGod, DarkAmber112, and all of you who put me on their lists. Thank you all so much. I really, truly am thankful for your feedback.**

**I may have another one-shot come out soon, not entirely sure just yet.**

**Oh, and P.S. I tried to spell Brother the best way I could the way Nina would speak it. Until next time!**


	15. Spiraling Into Oblivion

**Title : Whispers of a Nightmare**

**Genre : Anime/Manga**

**Category : Full Metal Alchemist**

**Disclaimer : Nope, this one belongs to someone else as well. **

**Summary : Takes place after the incident with Nina. Something's wrong with Ed, and Al just can't quite figure out what it is. Serious situations and angst ensue.**

**Warnings : Angst, mild language, violence, and other issues that shall go unnamed for now. I don't want to give away too much of the plot just yet, now do I? ;)**

**Rating : T **

**Chapter 15 : Spiraling Into Oblivion**

"Alphonse! Al!" Edward's fear-filled voice called out through the swaying trees, heaven's tears starting to fall faster and faster. "Al!" he cried out again, scrambling for the origin of the source. The tears that hadn't quite disappeared from his downcast golden eyes melted over his cheeks once more, his ability to see faltering more than he would have liked.

He kept trying to tell his legs to move faster or push harder, but the end result only made his steps even more scattered and clumsy. And the fact that his leg was still badly wounded and oozing blood didn't help him either. And even though it had indeed reopened for the umpteenth time, that fact didn't really faze him, it was just that the pain was deciding to travel up and down it then back again a few hundred times a second, which what was truly getting to him.

And the crutch of a rail he was using was also seemingly turning out to be a bad idea on his part. It kept getting stuck in the firm yet mucky earth, the rain making it even more of a challenge.

But all those worries about such trivial things diffused in the back of his mind, the same phrase continuing to murmur between his bleeding lips.

"Just let this be a dream. This isn't real. Just let this be a dream. This isn't real," the words tumbled out of his mouth at an alarming rate, his vision practically spinning out of control with thanks due to the lack of nourishment his body had consumed in the past twenty-four hours; and the light shower that had transformed into a full blown thunderstorm in a matter of minutes.

A second scream echoed through the trees, the wind howling right along with it, scaring the twelve year old all the more. The freezing rain beat down on his unclothed skin, so hard it actually hurt. Even in the thick underbrush, it soaked him without remorse, his clothes and skin nearly submerged in the liquid substance.

"Al! Al, where are you?" he called out, his heart pounding a little too hard in his chest when he received no response. "Al, dammit!" he cried, an involuntary sob emerging from his lips. Everything was starting to weigh in on him at once; the dizziness, the almost unbearable pain from his wound, and the cold; and the simple fact that he couldn't find his brother.

The boy couldn't control the sobs that were now leaking loudly from his mouth as he pushed himself further into the forest that had turned into a sickly shade of grayish green, not helping the fact that he was already nauseas.

_Where is he? I know that was him! He's got to be here somewhere! I need him! Dammit all! _

He knew he could shout in his head all he wanted, but if he didn't get to Al soon, he was sure to have a breakdown right then and there amongst the shadows of the trees, and the moment, he really didn't care.

"Brother?" a voice called out weakly between the blurred flashes of lightning and loud claps of thunder.

"Al?" Edward practically screamed, stopping dead in his tracks, unsure of where the voice was coming from. "Alphonse? Where are you?" he shouted, the droplets of rain clinging to his now loose golden locks, his wet hair sticking to his face and neck. He stood deathly still, watching impatiently as the breath escaped from his lips.

"Edward?" the voice called out again, a gloved hand reaching out of the ground a few feet from him.

Slowly, Edward's golden eyes drifted towards the hand, his eyes widening as a different kind of reality took over his eyes. His lips quivered as Alphonse appeared before him, appearing surprisingly human, though the eleven year old's skin was rotting; decaying and falling off of his body. The honey-colored eyes that he so painstakingly missed looking into stared back at him; eerily quiet, frighteningly still, inhumanly dead.

"Brother…" the word broke through Al's grey tinted lips, his gaze never leaving his older brother's. "Ed…please…help me," his younger brother requested, his dying hand reaching out to the twelve year old, a finger falling off in the process.

Edward froze, a bloodcurdling part-sob, part-scream, emanating from his throat. He immediately backed away, inevitably tripping over himself and crashing to the ground, dirt splattering up all around him. He clawed at the ground in a desperate attempt to get away from the thing that was supposed to be his brother, he unable to face it for more than a second. His fingers dug fruitlessly into the squishy earth below, the rain having transformed the lot of it into mud.

"Brother…" Ed could hear the voice call out again, forcing the boy to close his eyes tight, not wanting to look back at the thing that had become his brother.

"This is all just a dream. It's just a dream. I'm going to wake up now. Wake up!" he yelled at himself, covering his ears upon hearing Al's voice call to him again. He fell flat on his knees, doubling over as the voice continued to torture his soul, whimpers filtering through his trembling lips.

"Brother, snap out of it!" Alphonse exclaimed, clasping a hand on his brother's violently shaking shoulder, sending the smaller boy straight on his back, sending another terrified scream flowing through the cold air. "Edward, what's wrong with you? It's only me," his younger brother stated in a heavily concerned tone, still holding on tight to the broken boy.

"Al?" the twelve year old asked in what was possibly the tiniest voice that had ever traveled from his usually obnoxious mouth. He slowly peered up at the gigantic suit of armor that was towering over him, worry in its soul-filled eyes. "Alphonse?" he tried once again, just for reassurance's sake.

"It's just me, Ed," the eleven year old offered soothingly, fearful of the state his older brother had fallen into. "It's okay, alright? It's me, Alphonse," the voice wafted through the metallic shell and into the other boy's ears. Al watched as Ed slowly pushed himself to his feet, gave the eleven year old the slightest hint of a smile, and then collapsed into his younger brother's arms, his over-adrenaline-filled body finally giving out, the boy succumbing to exhaustion.

Al stood still, holding him close for a second, strangely afraid to loosen his grip for fear of somehow losing him in the hole he had just plucked himself out of. Slowly, he turned around, easily picking Edward up and putting him on his back. Cautiously, he made his way over to the hollow earth, peering down into the abyss of darkness.

Curious thoughts began to corrode his mind, though he knew that his older brother should be at the top of his priority list, but the fact that there was six foot deep hole in the middle of the forest struck him as slightly more than odd. Shaking his helmet, he turned back around, someone now blocking his path.

&&&&&

The pounding rain didn't stop Maes Hughes from continuing his investigation. The hazel eyed man paced back and forth inside the make-shift infirmary tent, one hand underneath his chin, a finger tapping at his stubble.

What should have been a regular(yet still unusual) train derailment was seemingly something more in the Major's inquisitive eyes; there was just something about the whole thing that didn't seem right. Now perhaps, if Ed and Al _hadn't _been involved, he might not have been as interested, but still, something nagged at him.

Pulling on the rain coat that was designated for him, he slipped outside, making his way back over to the wet wreckage. Though there was still a pretty good bit of it left, he finally made out the origin of the point of derailment, the train having traveled more than thirty yards before having come completely off the track.

He bent down, examining the piece of iron that appeared scorched before him. An eyebrow arched at this as he stood back up, following the track until he reached the edge of the debris.

"Why didn't I see this before?" Hughes asked himself, staring at the mangled iron bars where normal track should have been. "No wonder this isn't normal, the track's been transmuted!" He gaped at his sudden discovery, finally realizing why he hadn't noticed it before. It was simple, it had still been covered with wreckage and debris. But that wasn't the only clue he hadn't taken in before. It was also the exact spot where Roy had found the piece of Ed's jacket, the realization sending the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end.

"What the hell happened here last night?" the question uttered from his lips, worry constraining his already concerned orbs. "Dammit, kid, what the hell did you do?" Shaking his head as he continued on, he murmured, "Roy is so not going to like this…"

&&&&&

"Who-who are you?" Al questioned, tightening his grip on his older brother, fearful of what was going to unfold next. He'd had enough excitement for one day, a little more could possibly send him back into that damned hole in the ground.

The person was silent for a moment, unmoving and oddly still. Lightning flashed, giving way to the face of a man, probably around the age of fifty or so, fine lines just starting to trace his hardened features. His dark blue eyes gave off a dull edge, apparently at one point in time holding life but not anymore, a questioning look reigning in them.

"I think I should be asking you that," the man replied, his voice deep with a hint of anger in his response, his gaze drifting between the two alchemists.

"I'm-I'm Alphonse Elric, and this is my brother, Ed," the eleven year old replied quickly, motioning at Edward with his helmet. "We were on our way to Kiase when our train derailed and we got lost."

The man continued to study them intently, his glare landing on Edward's dangling pocket watch, his navy orbs immediately filling with anger, his brow narrowing as well.

"You're State Alchemists? Why would the State send two alchemists to Kiase?" he questioned, resentment still heavy in his tone, the hidden anger slowly bubbling to the surface.

"Well, um, I'd really like to tell you, but I'd rather get my brother out of the rain, sir. He's hurt, and soaking wet," Al stated, worry clearly evident in the voice that was much too young to be trapped in the metallic shell it originated from.

The older man was silently reluctant again before giving a quiet nod, motioning for the boy to follow him. "My home isn't too far away from here," he muttered, the eleven year old hesitantly following suit.

The walk was quiet except for the underlying noises of the thunder and rain, echoing through the stalking trees and shrubbery; the question that had been on Al's mind for the past thirty minutes finally making its escape.

"Um, sir, this may seem like a strange question, but do you know why that hole was there?" he asked, albeit a tad sheepishly.

Silence drifted between them for another long moment, the boy starting to grow nervous at the lack of response the man offered. He tried once more, quickly wishing he would have kept quiet.

"Sir?"

"It's a grave. For my wife," the stranger replied, a ripple of emotion traveling through his tone, yet it was so low, Al almost didn't hear it.

"Oh…I'm sorry…" the boy tried but failed at hiding his surprise. Guilt immediately flooded through his system, making him feel even worse than he already did. "I didn't know," he added, casting his gaze downward.

The man gave off a grunt in response, a small but modest looking house coming into view. He walked quickly up the small stone pathway that led to the front door, taking out a key. For some reason, this struck Al as being a little strange, having to lock your doors out in the middle of nowhere, but then again, what hadn't been strange about their whole trip?

He followed the man inside, thankful to get Edward out of the rain, though worry for his older brother still scurried around his crowded mind. First of all, he didn't know how long Ed had been running around that forest looking for him; and then there was the fact that he still hadn't eaten anything in who knew how long; and then Ed's reaction to actually finding him. The twelve year old had been scared to death, and obviously whatever was going through his mind at the time was not real, which worried Alphonse even more.

He couldn't quite understand Ed's reasoning for anything. Not eating, hiding it from him, the secretiveness, and the want so badly to defy Mustang's orders and get back to Kiase; none of it made much sense to the younger boy. He'd tried to work it all out, but no matter how many times he went over it, the meaning of it all was still lost on him, which scared the hell out of him.

"You can set him over there," the man motioned to a medium-sized sofa that lay tucked away in the corner of the living room, a heavy blanket draped over it. The stranger drifted out of Alphonse's sight, disappearing into another room.

The eleven year old did as he was told, laying his older brother flat on his back and beginning the painstaking chore of undressing him, something he knew Edward hated others doing for him, but in this case, it had to be done. He'd surely catch his death if he stayed in those drenched clothes much longer.

Alphonse gently slid the soaked piece of red material from his arm, afraid of what he'd find the more layers of clothing he took off. He carefully unzipped the black over shirt and pulled off Ed's heavy black boots, a small puddle forming on the wooden floor next to them. Reluctantly, he peeled the black undershirt from the twelve year old's body, his soul nearly breaking in half as he saw what his brother had been hiding for a while now.

Ribs peered through the boy's pale skin, Al being able to count each and every one as though it were a mere normality and no reason to be worried. Dark purple bruises littered his sides and chest, the largest one about the size of an adult's hand, gracing the left side of his rib cage; obviously all leftovers from the wreck. If he hadn't felt so bad for his older sibling he would've smacked him right out of the state of exhaustion the boy had fallen into. But he came to the conclusion it would probably be best to save that for later when he was a little more rested and awake, of course.

"These should fit him," the man stated gruffly, coming back into the room and handing Alphonse a pair of boy's pajamas, appearing to be just the right size for his older brother.

"You have a son?" Al asked curiously, gazing up at the older man, hoping that he hadn't hit another sour note.

"Yes," he replied simply, taking off his rain coat and hanging it in the small hallway closet.

"Is he here now?" the eleven year old inquired, trying to sound as positive as he possibly could, inwardly knowing that no matter what he did, the man would retain his sense of detachment and continue to wear that same hard, bad-assed expression on his face.

"No," another one-word answer came. The man traveled into the kitchen area, Al hearing the sound of pots and pans shifting.

"Oh," the quiet response drifted from the seemingly lonely suit of armor, his gaze drifting back down to his older brother as he carefully removed the rest of his wet clothing and dressed with the lent sleepwear. "So…you live alone?" he asked, unable to refrain from his cascade of questions, the man interesting to him for some reason. He felt no fear around the stranger, but only sensed a feeling of sadness and hidden loneliness.

"I have for some time now," the black-haired man stated, standing at the kitchen stove, Al wishing he could smell what it was.

"But I thought you said that that grave…was for your wife?" he finished uneasily, placing the heavy down blanket over his older brother, a faint lecture already stewing in the back of his mind.

The man was silent as he made his way into the living room holding a steaming bowl and a glass of water. He handed it to Al, nodding towards Edward as he disappeared back into the kitchen, retrieving another for the younger boy.

"Oh, it's okay, sir. I'm actually not all that hungry right now," Al said, hoping not to piss the man off any further. Silence rested between them again as the man made a bowl for himself and sat down at his kitchen table, leaving the eleven year old alone with his sleeping brother.

&&&&&

Scenery passed by at a seemingly alarming rate and probably would've concerned the man seated in the back of the vehicle, except for the fact that the driver was First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye. The sky lit up every so often, the man's expression never changing. He merely stared on, strategic planning likely going on in his constantly moving mind.

"Sir, you never told me exactly where our destination was. I thought that we were going after the Elric brothers," Hawkeye stated in her usual professional tone, using it even when the two were alone.

"We are," Mustang answered simply, the corners of his mouth creeping up slightly, his arms neatly folded across his chest.

"Then may I ask, sir, why are we traveling by vehicle and not on foot?" she questioned, glancing at the Lieutenant Colonel in the rearview mirror. "It seems like it would only make sense judging that's how the boys are moving."

"True, but their destination is a given factor in the equation. No matter where they are now, they're going to wind up in Kiase within the time frame of forty-eight hours, and when they arrive, we'll already be there, ready to escort them straight back to Central." His smug expression only grew wider as he saw the look of misguided understanding on Hawkeye's face, hearing a, "Yes, sir, of course," part from her lips followed by silence.

He continued to stare out the window, rehearsing the words that were going to slam into Full Metal's ear the minute he laid eyes on him. But when it came down to it, he really didn't know what the hell he was going to say to the kid.

&&&&&

He couldn't make his footsteps any quieter than they were, all thanks to the metallic shell he was confined within; but doing his best, he made his way into the kitchen, a small glass now sitting before the stranger that had taken them in. He glanced over at the eleven year old, a sort of dazed expression settling into his eyes. For some unexplained reason, that expression seemed familiar in a way, though Alphonse couldn't quite place it.

"Um, excuse me, sir, is it okay…?" He cut himself short when the man nodded, motioning towards the small wooden chair that was adjacent to his, filling the small glass once more with a brownish colored liquid. "So-"

"I have to move her because the place where she was buried before is slowly getting submerged. There's a dam nearby and it has a leak. I don't want to take the chance…" his voice drifted off, his navy orbs wandering to the empty glass.

The hollow boy was silent for a moment, thoughts of possibly repairing the leak for the man springing to mind, but unsure of whether he should offer or not. It was quite possible the man wouldn't remember their conversation come morning, due to the alcohol flooding through his system at the moment.

"I'm sorry to hear that, um…" Al stopped, unsure of what to call the man.

"Rian. The name's Rian," he offered, unusually informative, adding more substance to the small tumbler, his strong hand shaking slightly. He closed his eyes as he downed the whiskey, the burning that should have been there numb due to years of it being routine. "He's a State Alchemist," the words tumbled from his mouth, his dark blue eyes drifting once more. A small chuckle emitted from his lips, though it sounded more like a low grunt instead, his brow narrowing a bit. "Hell, I haven't spoken to that kid in years…What did you say you were doing in Kiase? Official State business, huh?" He grunted again, the glass seemingly refilling on its own.

Alphonse stared at the older man for a moment, feeling more and more sorry for him the longer the conversation continued on. "Yes, you could say that," he replied, his gaze falling on the near empty bottle of whiskey.

"You two--you two seem a little young for being State Alchemists. What are you, 'bout thirteen, fourteen? And your little brother over there? He looks like he's only ten years old!" he cracked, a deep laugh erupting from his throat. "Ha! I can't believe they're letting children into the military now. Go figure," he muttered, slamming the glass back on the table, his face transforming back into the hardened expression it had worn since they first meeting.

"Well, actually, sir-"

"There's something bad going on down there, isn't it?" he questioned, his gaze steadily falling on the body of armor, his eyes meeting Al's soul-filled ones. "I've heard--rumors or what have you of things going on there for quite awhile now. I knew there was a reason I never quite liked that place. Don't treat strangers too kindly. Soon as you walk in, you're a target," Rian stated, shaking his head, his fingers still clenched around the shot glass, a sense of anger starting to burn in his eyes.

This peaked the eleven year old's attention by far, the boy already leaning in closer to the table. Had he had a jaw, it would've been slowly dropping with each new fact that poured from the man's drunken lips.

"Hell, I even heard they've tried to raise their dead there too. Something about a magical stone there or something. Wait, is that why you boys are going there? Because of that? Well, something needs to be done," he muttered, his navy blues blinking a few times before lazily drifting into the living room. His gaze fell on Edward, the boy buried under the thick blanket but still somehow managing to shake. "Tell me something. Why in the hell did you two boys want to become State Alchemists?"

Al hesitated a moment before replying. "To fix something, sir. A mistake we made a long time ago."

"To fix something, huh? Yeah, same thing my boy said…" he mumbled, his tone immediately turning bitter, his brow set in a fine decline. "Said that he had to get away. Kid was always getting himself into trouble one way or the other. Then just one day, he and his buddy disappeared. I found out a few months later what he had done. Haven't heard from him since."

"How long ago was that?" the eleven year old questioned intently, though hoping the man had more to say about Kiase and what other rumors he had perhaps heard.

"About seven years now. Stupid kid. Smug little bastard he was…Would you like some?" he asked, holding up the empty bottle.

"Um, no thanks," Alphonse stated sheepishly, standing to his feet. A sinking feeling filled his soul, knowing he probably couldn't get much more than more ranting about the man's son or the military.

"Your loss…"

Al shook his head as he entered the living room, his soul-filled eyes immediately falling on his older brother, the boy's mouth slightly open; though where there should have been a quiet innocence on his youthful visage, there was a strong expression of pain, his eyebrows narrowed.

The eleven year old sat down on the edge of the sofa, using his gloved gauntlet to push his brother's still slightly wet locks from his face, a thought circling through his weary mind. _What's wrong with you, Brother? What are you seeing? _He sighed and leaned his helmet back against the soft cushion, knowing he wouldn't receive a reply.

&&&&&

The moment some form of consciousness initiated in his soul, he felt pain spread throughout his limbs, nearly convulsing in reflex. It was almost as though his breath had been sucked straight out of him, his chest tightening at the thought. The sensation lasted for only a moment, but that feeling would stick with him for quite some time, as he would later recall.

The crackling of wood on fire met his ears, golden eyes slowly peering out of sleep-laced lids. The room he found himself in was warm, due to the fireplace that sat comfortably to his right, the coldness and shivering he had felt his body succumb to gone.

Thankful, his gaze drifted down to the foot of the couch, Alphonse's helmet drooped in a state of rest, the sight immediately making the wounded alchemist feel ten times better. He was safe, he was warm, and his brother was by his side; there wasn't much more he could ask for except maybe his brother's body back, and that would pretty much do it. But for the time being, he was quite content, even a little hungry.

Whatever took place that day was pretty hazy in his mind, and as he tried to recall the events, the images in his head blurred even more, forcing him to focus on other things. He let out a small sigh, not wanting to wake Alphonse up, but knew it would otherwise be impossible not to do if he moved.

But just as he was about to push himself up, his whole body tightened, paralysis settling in. His golden orbs widened at this, knowing this was not how his body was supposed to react, fear immediately gripping his soul. He tried once more, but it didn't take long to realize that he was frozen, stuck in the position he was in. And yet even worse, every time he even attempted to move a muscle, pain electrocuted the spot, though he didn't give up.

He opened his mouth to say something--anything, yet it was as though his voice were gone, rendering him completely and utterly silent. Though the terror of what he was going through at the present was nothing compared to what he would be experiencing in the moments to come.

**Author's note : Yes, I know. I've done it again, but sometimes, I just can't help myself. Hope you all liked the chapter. ;)**

**And THANK YOU all so much for reviewing. I'm going to attempt something I don't think I have yet, so here goes : THANKS go to Lyemi, Roy-Fan-33, cuylerjade, Me and My God Complex, ThePatheticWriter, TayloWolf, Akamori-chan, OrangeKittyAlchemist-Sony, Aemilia Rose, agent000, DarkAmber112, totallyinlovewithed, Hasso, Legendary Chimera, DoThePieFace, vampire elf, karikado, BlackHalliwell, marufu-chan, Harryswoman, American-Idiot14, Birth of Venus, CrazyDreamin, Crystal Remnant, Dragonjewel24, Elliote, Enpowera, FullDexter Alchemist, Here's Hoping, InuB, JChrys, Jaz the Wolf, Kagome92111, Kuropuu, Majestic Puppy, Maximum Poofy, Mayoki, Nefarious Idiot, Nejidragon, Punk Rocker Girl, Shattered Mirror01, The Silver Goddess Alchemist, Twilight-Cullen, Yueh-san, amrun'quessir, br14nn4, candle on the water, citrus peach, full metal-flame-lover, golden-eyed-heretic, hyperdude, iwantalife, kianna13, pippy32388, protegem0i, youkaiwriter, ChibiCorsair, Dark Mage Makai, DarkSquire008, Densu, Dreamthreader, Keeper of the Times, Mecha Otaku, NoZoMi17, ominous-Shadow, RanMinamino, TelevisionGod, The-Rogue-Angel123, TreeStar, Uzamaki Kakari, Zion, alienaileen, beccaRAR, coughkouichicough, demoncastaway, kawaiiangel22, pink-kitty, sarcasminabox, ssj2raider, yin vs. yang, and all those that have left me a review for any of the chapters. **

**Thank you all for your continuous support for this story. I really do appreciate it. And I apologize if I didn't reply to every review. I will try to this time around. Hopefully, this chapter will suffice. Sorry I jumped around a bit. Hope it wasn't too much. The one shot'll probably come out once the movie does, just for spoiler purposes. Until next time…**

**P.S. Oh, and I realized I called Hughes a Lieutenant in earlier chapters, but when I was going back through the show, I realized that he was a Major instead. My apologies for the error. ;)**


	16. Distorted Visions

**Title : Whispers of a Nightmare**

**Genre : Anime/Manga**

**Category : Full Metal Alchemist**

**Disclaimer : Nope, this one belongs to someone else as well. **

**Summary : Takes place after the incident with Nina. Something's wrong with Ed, and Al just can't quite figure out what it is. Serious situations and angst ensue.**

**Warnings : Angst, mild language, violence, and other issues that shall go unnamed for now. I don't want to give away too much of the plot just yet, now do I? ;)**

**Rating : T **

**Chapter 16 : Distorted Visions**

He could hear himself breathing, quick and fast, so fast he almost couldn't catch his next breath. Edward tried to tell himself not to panic, not to think about the fact that he couldn't move a single damned thing on his body, except for the quiver of his lips every now and then and the tiny, childlike whimpers that were breaking through his clenched jaw. Other than that, nothing, absolutely nothing.

_What the hell is going on? Al! Al! Help me!_

But he knew the cries in his head were fruitless, just as fruitless as the constant struggling that he continued to do, the pain transforming into a dull, edged ache. It felt like his entire body was turning into a rock, hardening and tightening with each passing second. His jaw was clenched so tightly, the thought of it actually breaking streamed through his head.

His golden eyes drifted from the fireplace to the front door, it slowly swinging open, the steady creak of its hinges echoing through the twelve year old's head. His breath caught in his throat as he watched something slowly peak its head through the door, the something being a formless, black colored void, a shadow so to speak, only three dimensional.

All he could do was observe as it peered around the room, a shape quickly forming before him. It locked his terrified gaze almost immediately, a smile shimmering across the face that was gradually appearing in front of his eyes. The boy was dead still as the shadow transformed into the image of his little brother, color and texture threading through it. Standing a few yards away, an eleven year old Alphonse stood, a grin he had never seen on his younger sibling creeping up the corner of the boy's lips.

Golden eyes quickly darted back to the armor that sat at the foot of the couch, still slumped in a resting position. At that moment, all Edward wanted to do was cry; cry and scream, though the harder he tried, the worse the pain was.

He tried to keep from looking at it, knowing full well that that thing couldn't possibly be Al, and that this was just a dream, a complete and utter figment of his highly overactive imagination. But the harder he tried to refrain from looking at it, the more his gaze was directed toward it, the inability to control his sight frightening him all the more. He had no control over himself whatsoever.

The eleven year old stood strangely still, just staring at the blonde. The grin widened once more, horrifying Edward, remnants of Lydia LaShea entering his train of thought. He couldn't help but try and squirm again, though he still wasn't getting anyway. However, he had managed to squeeze a few tears down his cheeks, the beat of his heart continuing to thump in his ears.

Laughter filled his head, Al's childlike laughter, though it didn't sound anything like his little brother. The tone was too high, and much too hateful. Edward's body continued to shake, pain stinging almost every inch of his small frame. He tried so hard to turn his head, just so he wouldn't have to look at the thing, but he couldn't, couldn't even close his eyes.

He was forced to watch as the imposter slowly crept toward him(the grin still in place), his movements hurried, but slow, and twitchy in a way. But within seconds, it flew towards him at an alarming rate, its movements nothing like he had ever seen before. He managed to crack open his mouth, but all that came was a low cry, barely even audible.

_What if this is real? What if this is real, and that thing's going to kill me? Oh, god… Al! Al! Please…_

But he knew he could plead and scream all he wanted, and the only one that would ever hear him was himself, the thought making a few more tears trickle down his distraught cheeks.

Before he knew it, the thing was standing straight over him, giving him the widest grin it could, and as he gazed into its eyes, he saw no life in them. They were the same color, but completely blank and deprived, no soul to window. It smiled even wider as though it could hear his thoughts, nodding its head a bit and even letting out a low giggle. Then moving once again at seemingly the speed of light, it was inches away from his face, staring directly into his terrified golden orbs.

At that moment, Edward saw his life flash before his eyes, knowing that the thing was surely going to kill him and he'd be helpless to stop it, his body still in a state of complete paralysis. He waited a few seconds, but nothing happened, silence drifting between breaths. But then it suddenly knelt down a little more, its lips now touching his ear, and then he heard it whisper in Alphonse's voice, only making him want to cry even more.

"This is what I could've been, Brother," the hum from its mouth vibrated his ear, though there was no breath coming from it. "But you took this away from me and made me into that," it stated, turning its head slightly as Ed's was seemingly forced to as well, the "real" Alphonse entering their sights. "Do you think you actually saved me, Brother? Do you? Because you didn't. The only thing you did was make me hate you." It laughed a little at that, then continued.

"You ruined my life, Brother. You ruined it. You don't know what it's like…to be trapped in a hallow shell like that. To be unable to feel, taste, or touch; I can't do any of that thanks to you. I'm numb, completely numb, Edward; and I hate it. I hate it," its words resonated through the twelve year old's head, hating himself more and more the longer the other boy's words circled through his brain.

"I hope you never get your arm and leg back. Then you'll have to live the rest of your life like that; but even in that state, you still won't be able to understand what it's like to be me. But at least with those mechanical limbs, you'll have to suffer," its eyes bore holes into Ed's, whimpers escaping from the boy's tightly clasped mouth.

"Equivalent exchange, right, Brother? And you think by getting the Philosopher's Stone that you can bypass that law, right? Think again." It paused, but only to laugh in his ear, the vibration sending pain instead of chills down the young alchemist's spine. "That stone may very well give me back my body, but I'll destroy it before you can even think of getting yours. Then you'll see."

It backed away from his face, Edward hardly even able to breathe. He was forced to watch as it then moved directly in front of Alphonse, his soul-filled eyes closed at the moment. But what happened next was something that made the twelve year old open his mouth, no matter how much pain electrocuted his jaw. Only to his dismay, all that came out were a few slurred words, the ability to control his speech temporarily lost as well.

His golden orbs moved back and forth quickly as the sight burned his eyes. The imposter flashed him another devious grin before taking off Al's helmet and sliding into his interior, his younger brother starting to stir as the helmet was put back into place.

Red, soul-filled eyes came into Edward's frightened vision, his lips quivering violently. Alphonse slowly turned towards him, the metal eerily shifting. The eleven year old rose to his feet, casting a glance down at himself. As soon as Ed heard the laughter emanate from it, his vocal chords finally decided to kick in, a blood-curdling scream vibrating off the small house's walls.

"No one's going to save you this time, dear Brother," Al stated, towering over his older sibling. "Not even me." And then the gloved hand crashed directly into the boy's face, knocking him completely off the sofa. He fell to the floor, unable to move as the beating continued, one more terrified scream pouring from his lips before he could see no more.

&&&&&

He was in a state of peacefulness, as he usually was at that time of night. In this state, he could still hear the outside world around him, though it was almost as though he could turn its volume down, only letting in as much as was needed.

Images flashed before him, images of childhood and youth, the things he most missed. And then sometimes, there would even come pictures of his mother and her smiling face, gazing down at him longingly as she did when he was a kid. He missed her so much, though it wasn't something he usually communicated with Ed. It was just one of those things that was understood between them. And they both knew, she was never coming back.

At first, it was hard to come to terms with. After all, they _were _just children. But even though he knew it was hard on himself, for some strange reason, the thought of it being even harder on Edward came to mind. He couldn't quite figure out the reasoning behind the thought, but as he recalled a distant memory that had edged its way to the far depths of his mind; he remembered how terrified Ed was of losing her when Winry's parents were killed.

He would always be concerned about her, and do anything she asked of him, even if it was something he hated to do. And after she got sick, Alphonse could see that fear gleam in his brother's eyes every time he smiled. But the worst was the fact that after she died, he didn't cry, not even at her funeral. It was as though he had shut off his emotional valves, at least temporarily at the time. But all that soon changed after the failed transmutation. After that, Edward took every burden upon himself, even if they weren't his to carry.

Alphonse knew his brother's routine by now. Put on the smiling face or the determined face, just to hide the pain that was hiding underneath his skin. Only now, it seemed as though that practice had multiplied tenfold. Nearly every smile that curved the twelve year old's lips was forced or fake, Al could see right through it, though he still didn't know exactly what was bothering Ed.

They used to tell each other everything, be as close as could be; but now, Edward was being more secretive about things and keeping more to himself. Alphonse didn't say it, though that fact alone bothered the hell out of him. They were brothers, barely a year separating them. They weren't supposed to keep secrets from each other, especially if they could hurt someone or worse.

More thoughts continued to pour through his mind, but faded when a faint sound made its way into his hearing. It was soft, yet piercing, enough to get his attention. He stirred, turning towards his older brother who was trembling violently, the heavy blanket cast to the floor like a forgotten toy in their youth. The boy's face was contorted into a deep expression of pain and fear, his teeth clenched together so tightly the sound they made forced Al's armor to flinch in response.

"Brother…" Al's voice drifted slowly through the eerily still air, the fire place cackling behind him, sounding much farther away than it truly was. The eleven year old never felt so bad for his older sibling in his life.

The elder boy was laying flat on his back, appearing as stiff as a board, his arms wooden at his sides. Sweat poured from his brow, his loose golden locks soaked with the saltine substance. Low cries uttered from his crimson lips, tears mixing with the perspiration, both sliding down his cheeks and wetting the pillowslip below. His forehead was narrowed in a grimace, tiny lines surfacing just above his eyebrows.

This was not the same twelve year old and older brother Alphonse knew. No, this boy was a small, fragile human being who appeared to be at his weakest; not a drop of the strength he normally carried with him apparent. This person held none of the superficial confidence that Edward Elric, the Full Metal Alchemist did. He was just a boy, terrified of the images that he himself was forcing his own eyes to watch; and still not understanding the reasoning behind them.

Al couldn't take the sounds anymore, the sounds that a wild animal made when it was close to death, or scared to death for that matter. He quickly reached over, shaking Edward as hard as he could without hurting the smaller boy. But for some reason, it wasn't working, Edward continuing to stay in his unconscious state, pain still emanating from his lips.

"Ed, wake up!" Alphonse tried again, gripping the boy's shoulders tightly, attempting to get him to sit up. But with each touch, the smaller alchemist's body grew more tense, his teeth grinding together, creating that awful noise again.

Panic quickly befell the large suit of armor, now huddled over the older boy, his metallic knees clanking on the floor. Edward had always waken up when he shook him like that, but even though he knew he was squeezing too tightly and there would more than likely be a bruise or two on the flesh arm, it still wasn't working. He was starting to run out of ideas.

"Brother! Brother! Wake up, Ed! It's just a dream! Now wake up!" his voice was shrill now, fear dripping from every single syllable. His voice was quivering just as much as his hallow body was, though his mind wasn't even considering the loud clanking of the steel. Going into an Edward-like mode, he felt his gloved gauntlet move practically without his given consent, the heavy leather connecting with the cheek of the older boy. Suddenly, everything stopped, and golden eyes were looking into his.

"Ed, you're awake!" the relieved voice emanated from the armor, his grip loosening considerably on Ed's other arm.

The blonde didn't speak for a minute, his golden eyes flashing with fear and terror, his mouth creaking open in horror slowly. The scream sounded again from his lips, he now scrambling to get away from the large armored suit, falling to the floor in the process.

"Ed?" Alphonse asked unsurely, moving slightly towards his older brother, only to hear another frightened cry part from his throat. He stood back, watching Edward crawl on his hands and knees into the corner of the room, pushing himself against the wall as far as his small body could be smashed into it.

"Stay away from me! Just leave me alone! Don't come near me! You hear me? Stay away!" he shouted, his voice cracking as he shoved his hands over his ears, tears riveting down his cheeks. "This is a dream. It's just a dream. It's just a dream," he repeated in a broken whisper, his voice quaking.

Al stood speechless less than ten feet away from the frightened twelve year old, wanting so badly to comfort the brother that needed it, but staying where he was, his only hope that Edward would quiet down enough so he could get a word in. A stream of guilt leaked through the metal armor, the soul in it sinking down into it slowly but surely. A gentle, patient sigh wafted from the steel suit, knowing that this was just the calm before the storm. It would only get worse from here, for the both of them.

"Just go away. Just go away…Al…come back," the blonde whispered, his golden eyes wide with the most fright Alphonse had ever seen in them. "Come back, Al…I need you," the woe-filled tone carried from his quavering mouth into Al's hearing, the last plead being the final straw.

"That's it," Al mumbled, going forward even though the other boy's whimpers and cries started to grow louder. "Stop it, Ed. That's enough. I don't know what kind of dream you had but--"

"Get away from me!" Edward screamed, his automail digging into the wall behind him, nasty scratching noises resonating off of it. "Stay away, you monster!" he exclaimed, a trickle of his old self appearing, if only for a second. There was terror aplenty in the twelve year old's eyes and he wasn't having any of what his little brother was saying. That "thing" wasn't his brother, or so he was convinced.

"Edward Elric, I am your brother!" Al retorted, a commanding tone taking over his voice as he stepped within a foot of the older boy. "Now calm down and shut up!" the eleven year old ordered, his voice squeaking in the process, his soul-filled eyes locking evenly with Ed's.

There was complete, still silence for a moment as the two took each other in, the younger hoping he wouldn't have to resort to yelling again, though for some reason, Edward was seemingly making him do it more and more often as of late.

"A-Al?" Edward asked, his big, golden orbs glimmering with fear and unsureness, his small body still being wracked by faint tremors.

"Yes, Brother, it's me!" the frustration poured from the younger boy's hallow shell. "Who else would I be?" he questioned, his gloved hands going to his metal hips.

Ed was quiet for a moment before he replied. "No-no one, Al. No one," he muttered, his eyes drifting to the front door, weary as hell and still not moving a muscle.

"Who were you expecting? Mom?" the words shot out of the armor, both freezing at the last one. "I'm-I'm sorry, Brother," Al tried quickly to retain his innocence, not knowing where the hell _Mom_ came from. "Ed…"

"No, it's alright," Edward shook his head, a lost look still present in his eyes. Absentmindedly, he pushed himself up off the floor, his leg threatening to give out the minute he put pressure on it.

"Here, let me help you," Al offered, reaching out a gauntlet for Ed to grab a hold onto; but instead, the older boy refused, pushing him away.

"No, thanks, I got it," the small blonde murmured honestly, limping heavily on his flesh leg back towards the sofa, quickly pushing himself past his little brother without so much as another word.

For some reason, the snub made Al even more angry and standoffish. He was supposed to be there for his brother, not some type of guilt trip that Ed carried around with him just to remind himself of the awful thing he had done. The more and more Alphonse thought about it, the more the heated and held back anger grew.

"I knew this was a bad idea!" the words exploded from the steel suit, his metallic arms flying to his sides. "I knew I shouldn't have agreed to let you go on this dumb mission. All it's caused us is trouble; trouble, Ed, and you know it. Hmm, let's see, in the last twenty-four hours we've managed to defy Colonel Mustang's orders, be on a train that derailed oh-so-mysteriously, and get lost only to wind up in the middle of nowhere! Now is this all going according to your master plan? Because I don't think it is!" Al shouted, immediately regretting every single word he had just let fly out of his hallow shell. It was as though he just couldn't control it anymore, the irritation at Ed's stubbornness and not planning ahead for anything getting the better of him. Though it couldn't have come at a worse time, the elder boy appearing to absorb every single bit of it in, feeding the hate that sequestered itself within his soul.

He blindly sat down on the cream-colored sofa, his eyes balancing on the edge of lost and afraid. He didn't speak as he reached for his dry clothes, merely pulling off the pajama top and placing it aside, sliding on his black undershirt, the piece of material hanging loosely on his ever-shrinking frame.

Al was deathly soundless as he watched Ed dress himself, the tear stains drying on the boy's cheeks due to the heat from the fire. He didn't even flinch as he pulled on his pants, easily yet shakily sliding them over the wound on his leg, the thing looking only slightly better than it did the day before.

"You need to get that looked at," Al reminded the twelve year old, his voice faint with concern, his eyes staring at the floor.

"Yeah," Ed mumbled automatically, pulling on his heavy boots, but stopping suddenly and looking around. "Where are we?" he asked, his voice hushed and mild, completely unlike his normal tone.

Al sighed, still not looking up from his metal boots. "After you passed out, a man found us and took us in. I almost forgot where we were at," the eleven year old muttered, glancing at the doorway to the man's bedroom, the door still closed, no visible light coming from the room. "He said we could stay here, but I think we've caused him enough trouble for one night."

Ed didn't speak as he stood to his feet, his right leg inevitably wobbly and unstable as he pulled on his over shirt, his hand shaking as he zipped it up. "Let's go then," he returned quietly, picking up his red jacket, stopping when a door creaked open. He immediately jumped, nearly falling to the floor at the sound.

Rian entered the room, looking slightly disheveled from the substance he had consumed in the night's previous hours but otherwise alright. Dark circles encased his navy orbs, years of too many sleepless nights finally catching up with him. A few strands of his jet black hair hung in his face, stubble hinting at his taut cheeks. That same familiar expression that he had worn on his face when they had first ran into each other was there, but not as strong as it had been. He looked hesitant to speak, though the words finally came.

"There's food in the kitchen if you want it," he stated, his voice sounding a bit rough, obviously from the few hours of rest he had managed to attain.

"We're sorry, sir," Alphonse's apologetic tone emanated from the steel suit. "We didn't mean to wake you. He was just having a nightmare is all," he explained, earning a glare from his older brother.

"Thanks for the offer, sir, but we really have to get going. We were supposed to be in Kiase by now, so it's probably better if we get an early start," Edward interjected, his nothing's-wrong-with-me-everything's-fine mask sliding right back into its usual spot.

"Even if you leave now, you still won't reach Kiase by nightfall. It's still more than sixty kilometers from here, and there's not a place to eat for at least another thirty. But that's your call," he grunted, trying his best not to stumble as he made his way into the kitchen area.

"Thanks, but-"

"Of course, sir. That's very nice of you," Al interjected, cutting off Ed's nonchalant speech of _"Thanks, but no thanks."_

"Al," Edward hissed through grit teeth, his golden eyes burning with the fire of a thousand suns. "Let's just go."

Alphonse hesitated, careful not to go off on his older brother again just yet. Slowly, he bent down, low enough for Edward to hear what he had to say. "The only thing you've eaten in the past three days was a bowl of broth I fed you while you were sleeping last night. I don't care what you say, Brother, but you're going to eat something whether you like it or not. I'm not just going to stand around and watch you do this to yourself." And with that, he left a speechless Ed behind him as he followed Rian into the kitchen.

&&&&&

"I didn't think the air could get any more stale than it was the last time we were here," Mustang commented as he exited the car, inhaling some of the fine air of Kiase.

Hawkeye gave a curt smile at his choice of words, never expecting anything less from the Lieutenant Colonel. "We have two rooms booked in the same inn as last time, sir. Just in case," she added, walking up next to him.

Mustang glanced down at his watch, the familiar smirk teasing the corners of his lips. "Since I don't expect the boys here for another day or so, the rooms should come in quite handy," he stated, taking another look around the place.

It appeared almost the same as it had the last time they had had the opportunity to visit, dreary, bleak, and desolate; of course, the time was around six in the morning so perhaps it was best to say the town just wasn't fully awake yet.

Roy sighed, glancing back at Hawkeye as he made his way towards the inn. "Before sleep comes to enthrall me, I believe I'll make a few phone calls," the Lieutenant Colonel announced, opening the door for the First Lieutenant. "Oh, and do find something to entertain us while we wait on the boys. From the looks of things, there's a possibility of boredom with a slight chance of annoyance heading my way," he added, sarcasm aplenty.

"Yes, sir," his blonde comrade replied, not being able to hide the small but noticeable smile that played out on her lips. "I'll make the necessary arrangements for our rooms," she noted before disappearing into the lobby.

Mustang made his way over to the phone, quickly dialing the number Maes gave him before he departed from the crash site, knowing the man was too damn interested in the mystery of the situation to go back to Central.

"How nice of you to call so early, Roy," a familiar voice greeted on the other line, his tone notably sleep induced.

"Well?" the Lieutenant Colonel questioned impatiently, his fingers already resisting the urge to snap.

"Well what?" Hughes asked, sitting up from the makeshift cot he'd fallen asleep on. He cringed as he reached for his glasses, Roy's tempered voice shooting through the receiver and into his now throbbing ear. "Whoa, whoa, calm down there, pal. Sounds like you had a lovely drive. How's the Misses' holding up?" he joked, immediately regretting it.

"I'll say this one-and only one more time; have you found out anything new or useful or should I just go ahead and hang up now?" the angered man inquired through carefully grit teeth, the usual vein throbbing in his forehead.

"Well, now that you mention it…," his voice trailed off, but quickly restarted again upon hearing his name being threatened through the line. "Actually," he began, his voice taking on the serious tone it did when he had something critically important to say. "I don't know how I could have been so blind before, Roy. And even though I'm not a State Alchemist, I can tell when something's been transmuted, and that's exactly what happened to the track. I really don't know how to describe it other than that," he finished, putting his glasses on, though nothing could hide the weariness that was plastered across his face. "Now that most of the wreckage's cleared and the rain's stopped, I think I'm gonna do a little more investigating. See if there weren't any witnesses that actually saw what happened outside of the train."

The other end of the line was silent, the man holding the receiver to his lips contemplating the many ways that Edward Elric and his little brother could have been involved. "Perhaps you should question the conductor. He would have had the ability to see what was going on outside, right?"

"Oh, of course he would, there's just one simple problem," Maes replied casually, looking around for something to drink.

"What's that?" Roy questioned incredulously, his brow still narrowed, his gloved hand squeezing the phone a little too tightly.

"He's dead," the Major replied, his eyes landing on a steaming pot of coffee, it laying just out of reach due to the small phone cord.

"I'll contact you again tomorrow. I presume you'll still be there?" he queried uncertainly, sleep now becoming the major factor on his mind, a yawn tugging at the corners of his tightly closed mouth.

"Yeah, I probably won't be back in Central for a few more days. Kiss the Misses' for me!" The hazel eyed man couldn't help but grin as he heard the phone slam down in his ear, a hot cup of military coffee finally within the confines of his hand. "You'd better find those boys, Roy. You're their only chance in whatever mess they've managed to get themselves into this time," he muttered, hearing the pitter-patter of rain lightly beat on the tent. He was almost afraid to keep investigating, giving something he might not want to discover the light of day.

&&&&&

"We appreciate you doing this for us, sir. There's no way we would have figured out where we were going on our own. Our map was lost in the accident," Alphonse stated in the most positive voice he could muster, the old man grunting in response as he stood up, clearing the dishes away from the table.

Their conversation that morning had mostly consisted of the things that had been going on in Kiase, though needless to say, due to the lack of alcohol in the man's system, his answers were a bit less informational than the night before. But Edward had different plans, his voice and mask put back into place.

"Is there anything else you can tell us? Anything else you've heard?" the twelve year old asked, sitting up in the hard wooden chair that was silently killing his back.

"I've told you all I know, kid," Rian answered, placing the dishes into the sink, his back turned to the two more than interested boys.

The stubbornness that Alphonse had nearly come to loathe yet love in his brother was starting to show through the semi-antsy twelve year old, he not ready to give up yet. "Does the name Lydia LaShea ring any bells?" he questioned, not able to see the man's eyes narrow at the mentioned woman.

"Can't say that I do," Rian replied, rinsing the dishes off, careful not to drop them. The anger was rising off of the man just like the steam from the dishes. Obviously, Ed was hitting a nerve.

"Alright, what about Kania LaShea?" the boy tried again, his golden eyes widening then squinting as Rian turned around abruptly, the slippery glass falling out of his hardly noticeable shaking hand and to the floor.

"If someone tells you no, that means no!" he shouted uncharacteristically, his jaw clenching. "Apparently you're too young to understand that!" he exclaimed again, his navy eyes burning with an anger Edward knew he had seen somewhere before.

A tiny smile hinted at the twelve year old's lips, inwardly knowing he had struck a chord within the old man. "You know something," he prodded, the mysterious ghost of a grin not wanting to dissipate. For some reason, he just couldn't help himself. This man obviously knew something and just wasn't willing to tell. The kid couldn't just let it go.

"Curiosity isn't always a good thing to have, boy," the man stated, a threatened look in his cold eyes, his body tense with anger.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Ed went on, a small smirk playing out on his lips, the superficial air of confidence that always rang within his tone ever-present. He leaned forward on the table, ignoring Al's hushed pleas of, "Brother, stop," an eyebrow raised in almost a mocking way, to Rian anyway. Without even seeing him coming, the older man was at the boy's face in seconds, the crunch of glass not making it to his hearing until the man was already too close, his slightly age-lined hands gripping the State Alchemist by his collar, nearly breaking the zipper that held the two pieces of material together.

"This is the only warning I'm going to give to you, kid, then I want you to get out of my house and on your way," he stated, his dark eyes glowering. "Some things are meant to be kept quiet. And if you go around sticking your nose into other people's business, you will regret it." His tone was quiet yet forcibly sharp, a scowl falling across his visage. "Now be on your way," he ordered, releasing his grip and turning away, not giving either of the boys a second look as he disappeared into another room, the door slamming behind him.

The two stood there for a moment before Edward received a swift smack to the back of the head, his hair flying around his face as he fell forward slightly. "Hey! What was that for?" he exclaimed, rubbing the back of his head.

"Why do you always do that, Ed? We'll never get anywhere if you keep talking to people like that! And he even let us stay in his house!" Alphonse scolded shrilly, heading for the front door.

"He knows something, Al! And there's a reason why he's not telling us! And I want to know why!" Edward shot back, nearly tumbling down as he stood to his feet, the wound still clearly troubling him. Alphonse stopped upon hearing his brother's automail hand clasp onto something for support.

"Brother," his voice came out in a semi-whisper, his soul-filled eyes taking on a sad, worried expression. He made his way back over to Ed, reaching out a gloved hand.

The blonde stared at it hesitantly, his stubbornness making another appearance. "I'm fine," he muttered, letting go of the chair and taking a step before Al caught him.

"You were saying?" his little brother questioned in a matter-of-fact tone, still holding onto the smaller boy.

"Let's get going," Edward muttered, a pout forming on his lips. "And I can walk on my own, thanks," he stated, pushing himself out of Al's reach, an exasperated sigh leaving the metal armor's shell.

Al watched as his brother limped heavily over to the sofa, grabbing his red jacket and small suitcase, obviously in pain but too damned proud to admit it. _He'll never change,_ the thoughts circled through him as he followed the small boy out the front door, the road to Kiase obviously going to be longer than they thought.

**Author's note : Sorry for being a day late, but yet again, my brain just couldn't stop my fingers from typing. Hopefully, I didn't make Al too OOC or anything, but I feel at this point, his patience level with Ed is around below zero. And even though they're close, fighting is inevitable at this point, and I have a nagging feeling it's only going to grow worse so… Hey, at least no cliff this time, right? ;D**

**Well, I know I say this after every chapter, but THANK YOU all so much for reviewing. You all are so incredibly supportive, and I'm very thankful to have faithful reviewers such as yourselves, so seriously, THANK YOU. And now I shall list your names : Goku's Mistress, hyperdude, Kagome92111, Akamori-chan, Dark Mage Makai, Legendary Chimera, Lyemi, agent000, ThePatheticWriter, ssj2raider, totallyinlovewithed, Harryswoman, Aemilia Rose, DarkAmber112, Roy-Fan-33, Shattered Mirror01, CrystalMind, JChrys, vampirelf, marufu-chan, TelevisionGod, Annabele Lee, and every single one of you who has put me on a list of sorts. Sorry I couldn't list all of you but I'm short for time. L **

**Hopefully, this chapter quenched your thirst until I can complete the next one. Let me know. ;)**

**P.S. One, possibly two one-shots on the way, so stay tuned. ;)**


	17. The Long and Endless Road of Deprecation

**Title : Whispers of a Nightmare**

**Genre : Anime/Manga**

**Category : Full Metal Alchemist**

**Disclaimer : Nope, this one belongs to someone else as well. **

**Summary : Takes place after the incident with Nina. Something's wrong with Ed, and Al just can't quite figure out what it is. Serious situations and angst ensue.**

**Warnings : Angst, mild language, violence, and other issues that shall go unnamed for now. I don't want to give away too much of the plot just yet, now do I? ;)**

**Rating : T **

**Chapter 17 : The Long and Endless Road of Deprecation **

He was lost in a land of peacefulness, at least for the time being. But subconsciously, he knew it would only last for a little while longer. There were too many reminders to be had of the sins he had committed years ago in a war that would never go forgotten. He tossed and turned, a state of restlessness drifting over his worn body. Sleep had passed over his eyes easy enough, but the place it was transporting him to was one he had no desire to visit, but unable to control it, he was planted there, forced to see images of times past.

The dust and wind blew through his jet black hair, the heat scorching his skin, the sand torturing his eyes. He moved forward, screams echoing through the back of his mind. Everywhere he turned, destruction lay at hand, the blood of innocents littering his proudly worn uniform. Their cries resonated through his head, so loud the thought of his head exploding coming to mind.

He could feel held back tears threatening to spill onto his weary cheeks, but they were forced back, just like any emotion that tried to escape the confines of his detachment. They all had their orders, and he had his. It was a merciless game he was stuck playing, times such as this making him recall the contract that he had signed, giving his life away to the military that was supposed to be great.

His onyx eyes glanced at the sky, the sun banished from it just as the people they were killing would be from their land. A shiver wracked his spine, he ignoring it just as he did with everything else. It was useless to pay attention to things that once meant something but held no value anymore, just no reasoning for it.

The young man pushed forward, explosions of sand and dirt at his sides. The whispering wind deposited more blood on him, his eyes narrowing in reflex. He wanted to vomit, a nauseated feeling growing in the pit of his stomach, but he didn't, holding back the feeling to omit any signs of weakness.

He could feel his fingers snapping, flames and fire shooting from the ignition his glove was giving off, remorse settling itself deep within his soul, to be unlocked at a later time. The sky burned shades of orange and red, casting its eerie glow upon his face, giving him the appearance of a ghost, literally walking through a land of the dead.

His comrades voices seared through his head, etching their fear into his brain, making a mark for every fallen soldier and Ishbalan alike; but he pushed on, knowing that his trip didn't end there. No, he'd be forced to go on farther. Surely, he hadn't done enough damage or killed enough people for the likings of the Fuhrer yet.

Anger built within him, alongside the constant fear that was eating away callously at his heart, and it propelled him, shoving him further into the chaos and catastrophe that was awaiting him. And he flowed with it, letting it take him wherever he was supposed to go.

And even though he knew it was a dream, a subconscious decision on his part, he allowed it to happen to himself over and over again, making it out to be punishment for the acts he had committed there. But he knew, no matter how many times he watched it play out, it was always have the same ending : He would live and continue on with his life as though nothing happened; and the people whose ashes had made their home in the sand would be forever cast into oblivion, forgotten about as though they never even existed.

All this he knew but ignored, more images of pain and hate flashing before his broken eyes. And as he moved along, he knew that the end of the dream was starting to come upon him. Yes, this was the part where he made his way out of the hellish nightmare of the desert and into the infirmary tent. Where most people forgot their dreams when the living hours came to take them away into the real world of reality, his stuck with him, every part of this nightmare memorized thoroughly, as he'd ordered himself to do.

It was always the same, their two kind faces appeared before him, kind even though they were terrified with worry. They greeted him, explained as politely as possible that they had a job to do and that people needed them, no matter their race or color, gender or rank. If there was someone injured, then they deserved to be treated too, just as any human being should.

And he knew their words were honest and true, they were doing what they believed to be right, ignoring the military's orders of just sticking to their own kind. But along with their passion and want to help anyone in need came their plain, outright disregard of orders, and he was sent there to see that they no longer disobeyed. But they didn't listen, they told him that what they were doing needed to be done. But something changed this time during the sequence of events that normally took place. This time, their faces disappeared, his loaded gun shaking at absolutely nothing.

His onyx eyes widened at this, not understanding what was going on. It was always the same; he'd look into their innocent faces and pull the trigger twice, hitting one in the head and the other in the heart, telling himself that at least they had gone together and not separately as most people in love would hate. But this image did not befall his horrified expression this time, it was replaced with someone else. And as the image grew clearer, panic hit him straight in the gut, not understanding why the difference had occurred.

His mouth opened slightly, his armed hand drooping a bit at the sight of the boy that stood before him, a terrified expression marking the twelve year old's face as well. The golden haired boy cowered before him, shaking and trembling, his matching golden eyes locked on the loaded gun that was pointed directly at his forehead.

"Please, Colonel…no," he whispered, not able to make his voice any louder. "I'm sorry!" he pleaded, his legs giving out beneath him. He collapsed to the ground with a light thump, his too large coat gathered around him. His golden locks hung in his face, sweat pouring down his temples and forehead. "Please, sir…"

The expression that etched across the Lieutenant Colonel's face could only be described as pure and utter dread, shock slowly lacing its way through his system as well. Tremors wracked his taut body, sweat soaking his palms as he stared into the eyes of Edward Elric, the boy he was supposed to keep safe, whether the kid knew it or not. He tried to move his lips to form words or a sentence--anything, but nothing came, just complete and dead stillness on his end. There came a whimper or two, but nothing more.

"I'm sorry, Colonel. I'm so sorry… It wasn't supposed to be this way," Edward stated through tears, his voice breaking as he spoke. He curled in on himself, his hands turning into tiny, clenched fists in front of him, his body shaking violently. "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you…Please, Colonel, please forgive--" His voice was cut off as a shot rang through the air, a small hole taking residence in his forehead. His golden eyes rolled instantly as his now bloodied golden locks flew about his face, a murmur of, "Me," befalling his lips as he fell back onto the ground.

Onyx eyes slowly traveled to the barrel of his gun, a faint haze of smoke lazily billowing out the end of it. Something that sounded like a sob escaped from his quivering lips, his grip instantly loosening on the weapon, it falling to the floor before him. He was frozen, unable to move from the spot he was in, his tortured eyes forcing more abuse upon himself as he stared at the small corpse that lay in front of him.

Blood continued to ooze out of the bullet wound, the boy's cherubic face tainted with his own life-giving substance. It streamed down his temple, making a trail from his forehead to the braid that his head rested on, his mouth opened slightly. The light that had always been in those bright, golden orbs was extinguished by the small lead-filled object that had now made a home in his brain.

All this, Lieutenant Roy Mustang watched in sheer horror until he was abruptly woken from his sleep by a loud knocking at his door, he still numb from the effect of the dream. It took a moment before he was able to register exactly what was going on, but soon exited the discomfort of his bed and cracked the door, an employee of the inn staring back at him courteously from the other side.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your sleep, sir, but there's a phone call for you downstairs," the woman explained as politely as possibly, an obviously forced grin upon her lips, the military not exactly held in high regards in Kiase.

"And?" he asked, evidently pissed from the rude awakening, though not too badly judging from what he had been awakened from.

"It's the Fuhrer, sir," she stated, her auburn hair appearing to be just as fake as the color of lipstick she wore. "And he says that it's important," she added, polite as ever.

"I'll be right down," he replied, sleep more than apparent in his deep voice, it taking on a gravelly tone. He closed the door rather rudely, but he didn't quite care at the moment. He didn't care for this damned town anyway.

He quickly dressed, throwing on his over shirt, and boots. Not even bothering to comb his hair, he made his way downstairs and over to the phone, putting on his best "awake" voice.

"Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang, sir," he stated into the phone, his voice hiding the anger that was plastered across his face in the form of a magnificent scowl, it greeting all those who bothered to throw him so much as a glance.

"Good afternoon, Lieutenant," the Fuhrer's seemingly always cheerful voice acknowledged him from across the phone line. "I see you've made your way back to Kiase. Weren't you just there awhile ago?" he questioned with light curiosity.

"Yes, sir, I was; but as it turns out, this is the hometown of the two escapees and we have a confirmed sighting reported about ten kilometers to the west and that they were more than likely headed here. We've stationed ourselves at the inn, ready to apprehend them as soon as they make an appearance, sir," the story spun from his mouth, he almost surprised at how convincing it sounded.

"Well, then, very good, Lieutenant. I have no doubt in my mind that you'll be on your way back to Central with those two very soon. Continue on, and notify me as soon as you've taken them in," the older man ordered, his tone authoritative but friendly.

"Yes, sir," Mustang replied, relieved the other man believed his story, letting out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding after the line disconnected. He turned around, knowing his subordinate had been listening in the entire time. She stared at him, awaiting his orders. "Come on, Lieutenant, let's get something to eat," he suggested, disappearing into the dining room, thoughts of the dream still haunting his mind.

&&&&&

The two boys had traveled in silence for all of ten minutes before the hardheaded twelve year old stopped abruptly, a determined expression stretching across his already taut face. Al could easily tell by looking at him that Ed was waging a mental war in his head, and whatever was going on in there would ultimately lead to trouble. He waited, knowing he wasn't going to like whatever the departure of Ed's lips brought.

"He knew something," the words mumbled automatically from the boy's mouth, his golden orbs drifting through the haze of the forest up into Alphonse's soul-filled ones, mischief already set into place.

"Brother…" Al warned, ready to go into full lecture mode, the list of reasons why they should or shouldn't do something already coming to mind.

"He knew something, Al," Ed repeated, his golden eyes flashing with curiosity. "He's hiding something from us!" the tirade of words followed suit, the boy's volume level raising by leaps and bounds. "We should go back," he stated, calming slightly as he turned around in the direction they had just came from, a yelp escaping his throat as he felt strong hands wrap around his waist and pick him up. "Hey! Put me down, Al! Now! Put me down! Put me down!" he shouted, squirming frantically to get out of his little brother's arms, knowing all the while his movements would only do more bad than good.

"Brother!" Alphonse shouted, immediately silencing the small frame he still held in his metallic arms.

Edward stared straight, his eyes glimmering with a touch of defeat, unable to control his impulsiveness. He felt so close to getting somewhere, yet so far away at the same time. All he wanted was to get Al his body back, and if that man knew something--anything, then he would use whatever piece of information he did have to get closer, even if it was only just a step, at least it was further than where he was at now.

"Stop and think sometimes, Ed. We can't just go running back there and ask him questions all day. He already kicked us out of his house once today, so do you honestly thing he's going to let us back in? We haven't exactly been the most polite of guests you know," Alphonse reminded in a reprimanding tone, saddened by at how stiff his brother had become. He quietly set the boy back down, sadness tainting his soul.

"I know that, Al," the statement came through grit teeth, his glare fixed at the ground. "But if there's something he deliberately kept from us, something that could lead us to getting your body back; then I'm going back to find out!" the exclamation poured from the young alchemist's lips, anger flaring in his tone.

Alphonse looked down at his older brother, feeling sad yet proud, knowing that no matter how much he and Ed fought or argued, they'd always be there for each other. Sometimes, they just didn't see eye to eye, but that was only natural. Though Ed's stubbornness still pissed him off sometimes, whether he vocalized it or not. This was one of those moments he debated, stop him or go along?

On one hand, Ed did have a point. Rian was obviously keeping something from them; but was it for their protection, or for his own personal reasons? But on the other hand, if they in deed went back there and irked the man even further, what if he did unreasonable, or worse? Or plain just ignored them, which would more than likely be the right answer. _Why does it always have to be like this, _the thought made its way around Al's mind.

A breathless sigh escaped from the metal interior, immediately regretting the conclusion he'd let himself come to. "Fine, but if he tells us to go away, we're leaving. It's no use trying to get information from someone if they aren't going to give it anyway," he stated, sounding more and more like he was the elder sibling every day. "I mean it, Ed," he gave off another warning as he followed his older brother back into the thick brush. After watching him struggle on his legs a few times, he couldn't help but ask, "Are you sure you don't want me to carry you?"

"I'm not an invalid, Al!" the blonde shot back through a clenched jaw, a grunt of pain escaping the confines of his mouth as he tripped over a tree root, falling helplessly to the forest floor. "Dammit," he mumbled, pushing himself back up though stumbling once more.

"Brother, are you sure-"

"Yes, I'm sure!" Edward exclaimed, propelling himself forward once more, pain shooting every few seconds up and down his right leg. He closed his eyes tight for a moment, willing it to go away, but he knew he'd have a better chance of getting hit by lightning than that happening. He knew the wound was deep, he just didn't realize how far down it had actually cut. His brow narrowed as he took another step, not wanting to admit how much it truly hurt. He was supposed to be strong, and he couldn't be strong if he cried and complained all day. "Sorry, Al," he whispered, nearly out of breath, sweat dripping down his face. He looked up, hoping they were heading in the right direction.

His little brother continued to follow him, not saying a word. The feelings that were washing over him were indescribable at the moment, he unable to sort through them. All he wanted was for Ed to take a step back and think for a minute, but instead, the boy had his own agenda, deciding that his way was best, no matter the consequences.

Time passed by, yet they still hadn't made it back to Rian's house, that fact now nagging at the older boy. He stopped, glancing down at his pocket watch, his brow decreasing further as his eyes traced the thin hands on the small possession, the time being much later than the original ten minutes he thought it would take to get back to their intended destination. Instead, it had been over two hours, he finally realizing that they had obviously made a wrong turn somewhere.

"We're lost, aren't we, Brother?" Alphonse asked, his metal arms crossed over one another. Somehow, he had just known that something like that was going to happen, and once again, he had failed to prevent it. The pattern of their life was becoming all too clear.

"Not-not exactly," Ed tried, knowing that his little brother was far more intelligent that to believe his lie. His shoulders hung with defeat, the hands of exhaustion creeping over his small body once again. "Yeah, pretty much," he mumbled, hobbling over to a tree stump and sitting down. The pain in his leg had subsided to a dull, numbing throb that he had managed to redirect to the back of his mind, though the longer he rested it, the more the pain came crawling back to the center of his attention.

"So what do we do? It's not like we have a map to go by anymore. And on top of that, Rian said that it would take two days or more to reach Kiase on foot, and that's with only taking a six hour break each day. We won't get there until next week at this rate," he stated, his youthful voice holding the tiniest hint of frustration. "And I haven't even brought Colonel Mustang into the equation yet!" more words leaked out, he too sitting down a few yards away from his older brother.

"Don't worry about him," Ed mumbled, undoing the bandage that encased the wound. The corners of his mouth decreased, a frown edging across his lips. Even though Al had cleaned the wound the previous night, it had reopened(due to Ed's stubbornness), obviously an effect from the constant use he was putting it through. Dried and fresh blood alike were caked around it, the slit in his skin widening the further down the gash went. He felt nauseous just looking at it, the thing obviously going to need stitches soon or infection was sure to settle over it; and with that came the possibility of him having to pay Winry for another piece of automail, due once again to his carelessness.

"Ed, what were you dreaming about last night?" Alphonse's voice came from the steel suit, quiet and sounding indirectly marked with guilt.

A quick gasp escaped the twelve year old's mouth, the question taking him by surprise. His golden bangs slid down, hiding the face of pain he was currently holding. He grimaced, not wanting to divulge more his problems onto his little brother. The irritating wound he had sustained was enough at the moment. He remained silent as he rewrapped his leg, not caring that he needed a clean bandage to put back on it.

"Brother, please don't ignore me. Whatever it was, it was something awful and frightening. I know it. You can tell me about it, Ed. I'll understand," the younger boy offered, gazing up at his older brother who was still content on hiding his face and keeping his mouth shut for once. Al watched as Edward stood to his feet once more, his right leg threatening to give out at any given time.

"Let's get going. We're never gonna get to Kiase if we keep resting all the time," the bitter-sounding tone parted the child's lips, he taking a step and then immediately crashing to earth's hard surface. A pained grunt made its way out of his mouth, angry tears glistening in his eyes.

Alphonse immediately reached down to help him back up, but was pushed away, the elder boy deciding to struggle on his own. The anger the eleven year old had managed to tame for the time being swam to the surface, his level of understanding dropping down to nothing. Sometimes, Ed was just too stubborn for his own good.

"I'm helping you whether you like it or not! I'm sick of you thinking you have to do everything on your own, Brother! I am _here_, you know! And I'm not _helpless _either!" Al yelled, a gauntlet grabbing hold of the boy's automail arm. "Now stop being so stubborn and let me help you!" The pain that emanated from the metal shell was more than evident in the older boy's ears, but a part of him just couldn't accept the assistance his little brother was so willingly trying to give.

"I said I can do it myself, Al! So just leave me alone!" he maintained his hardened stance, attempting to shrug out of his brother's powerful grasp, though he knew it was useless. "Let go of me, dammit!" he cried, his voice hanging on the edge of hurt.

"No, Brother! I'm going to help you," Al stated, trying to calm down, though that was a feat in itself as the smaller boy continued his quest to aggravate the hell out of the younger one. "Now stop struggling and let me carry you!" he ordered, slowly pulling Ed up from the depths of despair he had fallen into.

Stubbornness continued to control the older boy's actions, he still thrashing around as though his life depended on him walking, and walking alone. Even when he felt himself being lifted through the air and onto his younger sibling's back, he still wanted to rebel, though the exertion that had been slowly snaking through his veins was starting to get the better of him. He still refused to give in, his body pulled as tight as a rubber band about to snap.

"Just put me down," he whispered dejectedly, his vision growing more blurry as tears filled it. He was on the verge of a breakdown, something he was not prepared to take on, with or without his little brother's help.

"No," Al stated firmly, his gloved hands supporting his older brother gently. "Now tell me what you dreamt about, Ed. I have the right to know," the sentiment echoed off the child's voice, he making his way through the thick shrubbery.

"It was just a stupid dream, Al. It doesn't matter," another whisper parted the boy's pouted lips, his golden eyes staring off listlessly. His arms hung limply at his sides, his cheek laying flat against the cool metal of Al's back.

"It does matter, Brother. Whatever you saw terrified you. And you can deny it all you want, but I've never seen you look so frightened in my life. You don't have to be afraid to tell me things. Just because I'm trapped in here doesn't mean I don't understand," the eleven year old explained, trying his hardest to help his older brother, the task seeming more and more fruitless the further they continued to walk in silence.

"I don't want to talk about it," Edward muttered, closing his eyes, feeling utterly helpless and pathetic already. It didn't take long for the independence he had thrived on for as long as he could remember to disappear, his strength going right along with it.

"When did you decide you were going to shut me off like this, Ed?" the woe-filled, yet tainted with anger inquiry came, taking the elder boy by surprise. "When did you decide that I wasn't important anymore?" another question came, making the boy raise his head from his lethargic position.

"What are you talking about, Al? You're the most important thing to me!" Edward declared in his defense, ignoring the heaviness of his eyelids.

"Well, you're sure not acting like it, now are you?" the younger boy shot back, his footsteps growing faster and louder, anger propelling him forward.

"It's not like I'm trying to make you feel that way!" the response came, hurt actually making an appearance in the boy's tone. He could feel his heart sinking, tears stinging his golden orbs.

"Then what are you doing, Ed? Trying to shelter me from the truth? Because if that's your excuse, then I don't--"

"It was about you," the quiet interjection came, the twelve year old's normally loud and somewhat obnoxious voice trading for a more hushed and anguish-filled tone. He laid his head back down and closed his eyes, preparing for the onslaught of questions that were about to erupt from his little brother's shell.

"About me?" Alphonse asked, confusion in his tone. "But, Brother, what could have honestly been so bad that you acted like that towards me? I mean, Ed, the thought of me even coming within five feet of you scared you to death! You wouldn't let me near you until I was finally able to wake you up."

"I saw what you would look like if you were normal, in a normal eleven year old's body," Edward answered, his voice lowered to such a quiet volume Al almost couldn't hear him speak. "That's all," he added, automatically feeling like a silly child for reasons that were unknown to even him.

"That can't be all of it, Ed. You don't have to lie. Why were you so afraid of me when you woke up? Did I…hurt you?" the question filtered through the steel suit and into the smaller boy's ears, he instantly regretting hearing those words. He knew better than to answer truthfully, knowing that somehow Al would blame himself for the abuse he had been subjected to in the dream.

"No, Al," he lied quietly, feeling sleep come to claim him once again. "You didn't hurt me. I hurt myself," he whispered, an uneasy rest slipping over his nerves, he falling into it reluctantly.

The younger boy continued to walk, worry plaguing his soul.

&&&&&

"So you didn't see anything either?" the restless tone came from Major Hughes lips, he inwardly longing to be with his wife and daughter, though he knew better. He stared past the man he was interviewing, the tenth one that day and still no luck. No one had seen anything on that night, even though it had been clear. A wild goose chase was the only phrase that was coming to mind, one that he had been all too familiar with.

Making his way over to a nearby table, he poured himself another cup of coffee, watching the black liquid fall oh-so-slowly into the cheap ceramic military issued mug. A look of disdain washed over his face, but the caffeine substance was the only thing that was going to help him get through the next ten persons who more than likely didn't know or see anything either. Hughes sighed, taking a sip from the lukewarm substance, letting it trickle down his throat.

"Alright, who's next?" he called out flatly, glancing at the small group of people that were left. His hazel eyes scanned the small crowd, landing on a woman with the brightest shade of green for eyes he'd ever seen. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was just something about her that made her stick out. "Um, ma'am?" he nodded towards her, gesturing for her to follow him. "Take a seat," he offered, pointing to an uncomfortable looking metal chair. "So, how are you doing today?" he asked politely, fatigue wearing his smile thinner and thinner each time his lips parted.

"Fine, thank you," she replied, her voice holding a hushed tone. Honey brown hair hung to just below her shoulders, a fair complexion hidden underneath her swaying locks. She pushed a stray strand behind her ear and cleared her throat, her emerald eyes meeting his.

"So, we'll just get started," Hughes stated, glancing down at the list of the remaining nine, wishing the day would just retire itself already. "You were one of the passengers on the train that night, correct?" he asked, peering at her through his glasses, a few strands of his own hair falling into his face.

She was silent for a moment, continuing to hold his stare. "Yes, I was," she finally replied, straightening up in her seat. She pulled her long, black traveling coat closer to her as though she were cold. She cleared her throat once more, her eyes inadvertently missing his for a moment, her nerves apparently getting the better of her.

"So, did you see anything?" he inquired bluntly, something about the woman eating at him. In a way, she seemed familiar, but then again, there were plenty of woman in Central who could have reminded him of her. But there was just something about those eyes…

"Actually, I did," she stated, no longer avoiding his gaze. "I was seated near the front of the train." She paused to lick her lips, then continued. "It was quite dark outside, being close to midnight and all, but when I looked outside, just before the train derailed, I saw someone on the tracks," she went on, her eyes intently locked on his, not stopping even when she saw the faint tinge of surprise run through his visage. "There was some type of blue light on the tracks, and that's when I felt the train jerk, then everything went dark."

The awe that was slowly washing over his system was tainted by fear, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He stood up from the make-shift table he had been leaning on, acting as casually as possible as he removed a crick from his neck. "You didn't happen to see what this someone looked like, did you?" he queried, coming to a stop in front of her, clip board hanging loosely in his hands.

She nodded, biting her bottom lips before she spoke. "I wasn't able to make out their face since we were too far away, but the one thing I did see was red, a long red coat."

His eyebrow couldn't help but twitch as he heard her statement, though he was quick to put back on his cool façade. "Well, thank you, Miss-"

"Miss Lane," she finished for him, standing to her feet, her emerald eyes locking with his once more.

"Right, Miss Lane," he repeated, letting the name circulate through his brain. "Well, thank you very much. You've been a great help with this investigation. Um, is there any way I can reach you if I have any further questions later on?" the hazel eyed man let the inquiry filter through the air, scrutinizing every move she made, a nagging feeling still parading through the back of his head.

"Sure," she answered politely as she handed him a small piece of paper, her crimson lips turning up into a smile. "I'll be arriving there in a few days," she stated, making her way out of the make-shift tent, flashing him anther grin before disappearing behind the tent flap.

Not even bothering to so much as give it a glance, he picked up the phone, dialing the number the Lieutenant Colonel had given him. He waited as one of the inn employees went to get the onyx eyed man, Hughes waiting impatiently across the line. "Come on, Roy," he muttered, his fingers tapping nervously on the table.

"This better be good," a deep voice grumbled into the receiver, Hughes eyes immediately lighting up the moment he heard it.

"Roy, I think we have a problem…"

**Author's note : Hmm, I'd better stop while I'm ahead…;) JK **

**Thank you guys so much for your continuous support of this story. I never thought when I first started writing it that I'd get this kind of response. You all are too kind, and very much appreciated. Hopefully, the chapter sufficed. **

**Once again, THANK YOU to OrangeKittyAlchemist-Sony, Hitokiri Musei, hyperdude, Roy-Fan-33, Akamori-chan, JChrys, CrystalMind, BlackHalliwel, Legendary Chimera, Aemilia Rose, Hasso, ssj2raider, ThePatheticWriter, Harryswoman, Flashlight Maniac, TelevisionGod, Lyemi, vampirelf, Kagome92111, marufu-chan, DarkAmber112, inuyasha133030, and all the rest of you who have put me on one of your lists. THANK YOU so, so much, and I want to take a quick second to thank those who reviewed my one-shot And The Midnight Hour Awaits Us. THANKS goes to Twilight-Cullen, EdxRoy4ever, Buddi-chan, RealmicSorcerer, JChrys, and Roy-Fan-33. All of your reviews meant so much to me, so honestly, thank you guys. ;) Hopefully, this chapter sufficed. And the other one-shot too. ;)**


	18. Stranger in Comparison

**Title : Whispers of a Nightmare**

**Genre : Anime/Manga**

**Category : Full Metal Alchemist**

**Disclaimer : Nope, this one belongs to someone else as well. **

**Summary : Takes place after the incident with Nina. Something's wrong with Ed, and Al just can't quite figure out what it is. Serious situations and angst ensue.**

**Warnings : Angst, mild language, violence, and other issues that shall go unnamed for now. I don't want to give away too much of the plot just yet, now do I? ;)**

**Rating : T **

**Chapter 18 : Stranger in Comparison **

His footsteps echoed graciously off the walls, his stare set on one thing and one thing only, the invisible image of Edward Elric hanging eerily before him. He could see those golden orbs, haunting him from the inside out. They were filled with a pain so deep, he could almost swear he heard the boy crying, felt the tears staining his rough hands, catching them as they befell the child's eyes.

His brow narrowed, his onyx eyes flashing with anger, trying to comprehend the information that was given to him. It just didn't sound right, Full Metal transforming the track like that? His jaw clenched at the thought, knowing the boy wouldn't be that careless or destructive, especially if innocent lives were involved. Though the kid had his naïve, selfish ways sometimes, in the end, whatever he was doing was for someone else; and the idea of him having something to do with the death of twelve people just didn't set right in the Lieutenant Colonel's stomach.

He grimaced as though he actually felt pain, but the gesture was merely one out of pure frustration, an emotion he hadn't felt in quite some time. He grit his teeth as he turned around, making another unseen line on the hardwood floor. His heavy military issued boots stepped across the floor, sounding as though he were a soldier marching off to war. Perfectly in sync, yet the hesitance was there, hidden in between his footfalls.

His jet black hair gleamed in the moonlight that was creeping through the curtains, the pale rays casting an eerie glow against his skin, making it appear even more ghostly than it had without the moon's projected beauty. Fine lines were steadily forming across his forehead, his brow scrunched in thought.

This whole bit just wasn't making much sense to his complicated way of thinking. It had been two days since Hughes had informed him of the account, supposedly witnessed by a Miss Lane who had been a passenger on the train that night. And though it seemed strange enough, the woman was able to give a description of Edward, no matter how unclear it was. The fact of the matter was she had seen his red coat, followed by blue light, and then the derailment.

_But why? _

For the first time in a long while, Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang was puzzled, confused beyond belief. The pieces just didn't fit. And to make matters even worse was the problem of the Elric brothers still not arriving in Kiase, which could only mean trouble. Even if they had been walking, they still should have made it there by now, unless other distractions arose.

"Sir?"

His footsteps paused for the moment, knowing the woman had been watching him as he journeyed to and fro, back and forth across the small inn room. It took a moment for the single word to parade its way through his thoughts, but finally, it hit a nerve in his brain, sending a message to his head, telling it to turn towards her or at least show some form of acknowledgment. He looked up, his jet black bangs hanging invitingly in his face.

"Should we go looking for them?" the simple question parted the First Lieutenant's lips, her cinnamon colored eyes watching his every move, never once looking away. She watched as his brow furrowed a bit more, both knowing they couldn't hold off curious questions from the Fuhrer much longer.

"Not yet, and there's the possibility that if we did, they could just as easily enter the town as we're leaving it," he answered, his gaze still not meeting hers. It lingered on the far corner for a moment before returning to the floor, his footsteps continuing once more.

"Should we request backup?" another suggestion came, she trying her hardest to come up with some type of feasible plan so the man would stop trying to give himself a heart attack over the situation. No matter how many times she saw that cool and collected mask, she knew worry hid behind it.

He shook his head at the proposal, a reason following. "It would look too suspicious. We're just supposed to be apprehending some two-bit serial killers, remember?" he asked, lifting his head up ever so slightly, gazing at her through his curtain of obsidian locks. "Although it could be possible," he mumbled, his head bowing again in contemplation, an ungloved hand going up to his chin.

"Perhaps we could tell him about our suspicions concerning the town," the blonde propositioned. "Ask for a little more time, sir?" Hawkeye offered, keeping her posture as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, still assuming her professional guard.

"I may be able to stall for another few days, just on the account that we still haven't been able to find the two men, of course; but then again, I don't want to appear incompetent either," he stated, his military jacket thrown askew on the chair setting a few feet away from him, his light blue undershirt slightly untucked as well.

"Sir, how are we going to explain not having the men when we return to Central?" the First Lieutenant inquired curiously, one eyebrow raised, her hands clasped behind her back.

"We had to kill them," he answered casually, as though it were an every day circumstance. "They refused to come with us, which if we were actually in that situation, that wouldn't be too far from the truth. They opened fire on us, and we had no choice but to execute them, which would have happened had they been taken back to Central anyway." All this he said and she watched, only beginning to understand the complicated and diverse mind of her superior.

"That may be easy enough, but what about the bodies? Wouldn't the Fuhrer request that the bodies be taken back to Central for evidence purposes?" She held her gaze, knowing the man had an answer for any question she might throw at him, inwardly marveling at his know-it-all type demeanor. She watched as a smirk slowly formed on his face, though she knew his mind was still on the Elric brothers and their safety.

"I am the Flame Alchemist, aren't I?" he queried, a smug grin crossing his lips. "I can't help it if they were reduced to a pile of ashes," he commented, the grin continuing to grace her gaze until he turned back around, pacing off in the opposite direction.

"True, sir," she nodded in understanding, her eyes slowly drifting towards the window, the moon's graceful rays slowly disappearing behind fresh clouds that had rolled in from the West, the night sky taking on a shade of light grey, overcast abound. "Where do you suppose the boys are?" the question seemingly came from out of nowhere, though she knew that was the top priority of the Lieutenant Colonel.

He shook his head, not a trace of the smile left on his impatient visage. "Anything's possible with those two," he replied, his voice lowering a bit, the woman ultimately knowing what was going to come out of this late night conversation. She watched as he paced back towards her, his stare on the floor once more. He stopped short, picking up the jacket and slipping it on, a taste for alcohol calling out to his lips. "Don't wait up," he stated before turning back around, his hardened gaze meeting hers before turning towards the door.

"Sir?" The word was more of a reminder than a question, forcing the man to look back at her once more, the closing of the door lingering on his fingertips. His onyx eyes held a slight gleam as he saw that she was holding up his gloves, the corners of his lips turning up ever so slightly.

"And what makes you think I'll need those?" he asked nonchalantly, raising an eyebrow at the caring gesture.

She continued to stare at him for a moment, held speechless by the too few stray rays of moonlight that had managed to break through the clouds' prison, they casting an eerie radiance upon the man, forcing life into those obsidian eyes. "You never know when you might need them, sir. Especially with the disdain this town holds for the military," she answered as prompt as possibly, pushing back any sort of misgiving she held whatsoever.

His lips turned up more, he slowly walking back over to her and gently taking them from her faint grasp. Without a word or intelligent remark, he turned and made his way out of the room, closing the door behind him, inwardly knowing she'd more than likely be awake when he got back.

The streets were as desolate as ever as he made his way out of the inn, the street lamps guiding his way to the tavern that held a seat for him at the bar, military or not. He involuntarily shivered, the chill of the night getting the better of him. He watched as his breath spiraled from his lips, his gaze turning towards the night sky, droplets of rain making their way down from the heavens and upon the streets.

It was times like this when he felt the loneliest. As sad or as pathetic as it sounded, it was true. His footsteps echoed behind him, a constant reminder of the fact that it would more than likely remain that way, even with Hughes constant badgering of trying to "find himself a good wife". A small but noticeable smile graced his lips at thought of his best friend, wishing that the man had accompanied them instead, at least giving him someone to talk to as he drowned himself in the poison he was about to consume.

He ran a hand through his jet black locks before he entered the dim establishment, knowing there was a bottle of scotch with his name on it in there somewhere. The onyx eyed man took a quick glance around the place, surveying his surroundings before he settled in. Seeing that there were only three people in the place, more than likely due to the late hour, he took a seat at the bar, his hardened stare slowly meeting the bartender's, taking note that it wasn't the same man as from before.

"What'll you have?" the young man asked, appearing to be around the age of thirty or so. He was tall and thin, his short brown hair cropped and styled quite neatly for someone of his occupation, or location. He paid no attention to the uniform Mustang wore, which quite surprised the Lieutenant Colonel.

"Scotch on the rocks," Mustang replied simply, preparing to drink enough alcohol for both he and the missing Hughes. He watched as the slightly older man filled the glass generously, carefully sliding it over to the military man's awaiting hand. It was gone in one gulp, Roy already pushing it back for a refill.

"Rough night?" the bartender asked casually, raising an eyebrow at the man's urgency to swim in the alcoholic substance. He filled the glass once more, placing it in front of the Lieutenant Colonel again, watching carefully as the man accepted the drink, though this time, he didn't swallow it down as if it were a shot. This time, he held the tumbler in his hands, letting the chill of the glass make its way through to his fingertips, reminding him that he indeed was going to get intoxicated tonight.

"You could say that," Mustang finally replied, taking a sip from the inebriating substance, letting it numb his throat as it ran down his esophagus and eventually settled in his bloodstream. Images of the dream he had two days previous danced before his obsidian eyes, making the want for the alcohol become even stronger. As much as he ran it through his mind, the variable in that dream and ones he observed before just didn't make sense. Why, all of a sudden, would there be a difference? Perhaps, yes, inwardly, he was silently afraid that he might not see those two boys again, fate playing with his head.

Though he knew they were strong, and quite resilient, that didn't stop them from thinking they were invincible, as Edward demonstrated so beautifully. He took another taste from the glass, letting the liquid numb his tongue before he swallowed it. The aftertaste burned slightly, but he took it as it came, telling himself that before long, he wouldn't be feeling much of anything except dizziness and possibly nausea.

Golden eyes drifted before his, haunting him in every way possible. His brow narrowed as the vision etched itself across his soul, burning a permanent image in his brain. The pain that they held were in no comparison to his, but he felt not one ounce of pity for the boy. The child knew fully well what he had done, though the possible aftereffects had been blocked out by his naiveté and want to get his mother back. All this led the boy to where he was now, and the onyx eyed man knew he was just another step in the road leading the boy to his final destination. He rolled his eyes, taking another drink, leaving the glass empty once more.

"Care to talk about it?" the young man behind the bar asked in a tone that only bartenders used when trying to put on the superficial act of caring.

Mustang grunted in response, his eyes focused on the filling glass in front of him. He could feel the substance slowly taking control of his body, his muscles falling slack underneath the crisp uniform. But for some reason, he knew he couldn't let his guard down in this place. His brow narrowed, images of the last time he had been there coming to mind. It was hard to trust the mind of a child, but perhaps, just perhaps, Edward had been right. Maybe there was the possibility that there was more to the town that met the eye.

"Ha, who am I kidding?" the half-drunken mumble befell his lips, his eyes starting to glaze over. He couldn't believe he was actually humoring the kid, and the boy wasn't even there. Roy shook his head, letting the alcohol run in between his lips and down his throat once more, knowing he'd better be getting back to the inn soon, though maybe one more drink couldn't hurt. Three more glasses later, he decided it was time to go.

He took his last sip then stood up carefully, his balance still faltering. He swayed a bit as he laid down some money, then made his way to the door, trying his best not to fall flat on his face. If he had had the luxury of being back at Central, he wouldn't be facing the possible public embarrassment that was trying to make an appearance. Instead, he would have been able to pass out at his desk as he did so many times before.

As soon as he exited the place, someone grabbed his arm, the sudden impulse to turn them to ashes exhilarating his nerves. He felt his fingers push together, too intoxicated to realize he hadn't even bothered to put on the gloves Hawkeye had reminded him of earlier. He tensed up, readying for hand to hand combat when a familiar voice broke through his plane of dizziness.

"Whoa, I see you had a little without me, huh?" Hughes asked, a wide grin spread across his lips. Upon seeing the vein throbbing in the other man's forehead, he relaxed his grip, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You couldn't have waited just five more minutes?" he teased, raising a sarcastic eyebrow, the smile still in place.

"It's not as if I knew you were coming," Mustang replied, his pupils dilating before the other man. He swayed once more, Maes placing his arm around the man's shoulder in an effort to keep him standing. "So, what brings you to this positively gorgeous place, hmm?" the Lieutenant Colonel asked, a drunken smile faintly turning up the corners of his lips.

"Seeing as you are the way you are," Hughes started, his tone going into serious mode as he gave the man a once-over. "I'll leave that unexplained until the morning. But all I can say is we're dealing with something dangerous here, Roy." He paused, his hazel eyes darting around them as they started to walk, inwardly knowing he could never be cautious enough. "Come on, we'd better get you back to your room before I have to carry you back there," he muttered, wishing he'd had a share of the alcohol too.

Upon hearing the word _dangerous_, the Lieutenant Colonel's eyebrow furrowed, his bowed head straightening up slightly. "I'm not too drunk to be able to understand the human tongue, Hughes, so whatever it is you have to tell me, you can go ahead and do it now. I'm listening," he finished, his deep pools of obsidian making a stake in the other man's eyes.

Maes studied the intoxicated man for a moment, mentally trying to decide whether or not to even try to explain the things he had found out since leaving the accident site. As soon as he was about to open his mouth, the sound of fast approaching footsteps befell his ear, a silhouette coming into view; and as it gained depth, the Major could see something gleaming in its hand, aimed directly at the two military men.

&&&&&

The darkness was comforting in an odd way; relaxing. It surrounded him, his body floating in the quiet abyss, its invisible waves gently lapping at his skin. The twelve year old couldn't remember the last time he had felt so at ease, so calm. It _had _been quite awhile. So he took it all in, thankful that the pain he had felt earlier had subsided for the time being.

The silence that had been drifting over him stopped suddenly, interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing. It was distant but near, the curiosity of who it was getting the better of the youth. Reluctantly, he let the river of velvet fade away, a bright blue sky painted with white, puffy clouds floating into view before him. A cool breeze blew gently across his skin, so light, it almost went unnoticed, but he felt it, no matter how faint its touch was.

His golden eyed gaze slowly fell to his level, a field of wildflowers set out before him. His lids shut on him momentarily, urging him to take in the scent that faintly wafted from the untamed flowers, it gently teasing his nostrils. A faint smile tugged at his lips, this place feeling so strangely familiar.

The colorful distractions held his interest for a brief moment, but before long, the faint sound of the phone ringing caught his attention once more, his footfalls slowly moving in its direction. It felt like it was taking him forever to finally get through the field, it seemingly stretching on for miles. The boy became slightly annoyed at this fact, knowing that the ringing phone needed to be answered, and he'd have to be the one to do it because apparently no one else in this place had the time to do so.

He followed the dirt path that started at the edge of the field, looking ahead to see what awaited him at the end of it, though he could see nothing but the sky, darkening above him the further along he went. He shivered, the cool breeze that had felt so inviting earlier turning much colder and bitter. He folded his arms in attempt to keep warm, pulling his black over shirt closer to his body, but the chill snaked its way underneath his clothing and right through his skin. He could hear his teeth chattering faintly, but the phone still called out to him, beckoning the boy with its ring.

The sky grew more violent as he continued down the path, it winding up a hill, the area growing more and more familiar to his senses. He passed a house that he hadn't noticed before, its curtains drawn and the welcome sign on the door cracked in half, looking as though if it took one more gust of wind, surely it would blow away. The place looked like it had been deserted for awhile. But the ringing phone was not coming from there, so he continued on, intent in finding its origin.

Another house came into view as he went further up the hill, it standing almost at the top. Oddly enough, he was drawn to this one, for unlike the other one, its curtains were wide open, a warm fire waiting invitingly inside. He peered through the windows, taking note that the fireplace was the only thing in the giant house. Bare walls caught his inquisitive golden orbs, as well as the lack of furniture it contained. There were no signs of life except for the fire, which he so badly wanted to be by. The thought of just going in there to get warm for a minute swam through his mind, his body reminding him that it was getting even colder than before.

Hesitantly, he made his way over to the door, no decorations of any sort gracing it. It was painted a steel grey which he found odd for a front door, but nonetheless tried the red doorknob, only to find out that it was indeed, locked. His brow narrowed, the want to be warm and close to the fire returning to his clouded mind. He tried once more, pulling on it harder and harder, but to his dismay, it would not open, no matter how much strength he put into it. Disappointed, he stepped away from the door and made his way down the front steps, saddened that he couldn't get in.

The blonde folded his arms once more, knowing it was best to continue down the path, the insistent phone still waiting for him. He glanced up at the sky, it now a sickening shade of green, bolts of lightning colliding above in a heavenly array of colors. Thunder boomed loudly in his ears, the ground shaking in response. The wind gusted around him, the ability to walk becoming more difficult with each step.

Finally, he made it up over the hill, soaking wet and drenched to the bone. The other side was just as stormy and violent if not more than the one he had just come from. The lightning continued to clash in the sky, a bolt rattling the ground next to him, nearly scaring the hell out of him. His first instinct was to run, and so he did, his slender legs taking him as fast as they could down the hill. Unfortunately for him, it was too steep and wet, his over-sized boots slipping on the surface, sending him down much faster than he had originally anticipated.

He landed at the bottom with a thump, almost too tired to push himself up. And even though he'd gotten closer to it, the ringing grew more faint. But he still heard it, giving him the motivation to get up. Swaying, he stood to his feet, dirt, mud and grass polluting his clothes. Ignoring the fact of how roughed up he was, he looked forward, his heart stopping at what he saw.

A house was burning across the wide open field, and as he got closer to it, he knew it to be the one he and his brother had spent many years playing at. It was the Rockbell's. His golden orbs widened in horror as the realization hit him. Ignoring the aches and pains that were filtering throughout his system, he pushed himself forward, propelling his legs towards the sweltering blaze.

He finally found his voice, a cry of, "Winry!" escaping his terrified lips. He continued to slip and stumble as he made his way across the field, glancing towards the sky for a split second only to see 3 OCT 10 lighting up the violent-looking horizon. A horrified cry parted his lips as he propelled himself faster, taking the steps up to the house two at a time. "Winry!" he cried again as he entered the house/automail shop, only to find the place empty and eerily silent. There was no smoke filling his lungs nor flames bursting from the walls. It was completely quiet, as though everything were in fact, normal.

He was just about to call out for them again when he heard the phone, causing the boy to jerk in its direction. His eyes widened slightly, inwardly knowing no one else was in the house. Apprehensively, he forced his legs to take him over to the apparatus, his hand shaking as he cautiously reached for the receiver, carefully taking it off the hook.

"Hello?" he asked, his voice echoing throughout the house. The other end was silent, forcing him to once again repeat his greeting, albeit more loudly. "Hello?" Static greeted him for a moment, followed by a voice, one he had no trouble deciphering.

"Edward? Edward is that you?"

He struggled to make his vocal chords work, they finally emitting sound. "Mom?" he asked, his voice quavering. "Mom?" he repeated, his chest rising and falling quickly at the sound of her voice, sounding so…alive.

"Edward? It's time to come home. Dinner's almost ready," she said innocently, as though everything were alright.

The boy immediately burst into tears, unable to control the rivers of saltine that were now flooding down his cheeks. He tried to speak, but the words were just mere mumbles and distorted cries.

"Edward? What's wrong? Is something wrong with your brother? Edward?" she questioned, sounding worried. "What's wrong?"

"You're-you're dead!" he blurted out, gripping the phone with all of his strength, ashamed of the tears that were continuing to color his pale cheeks. "You're dead…" his voice trailed off, sobs escaping his hoarse throat.

"Edward, what are you talking about? Are you feeling okay?" the woman's voice ran across the line, directly into his eardrum and straight to his brain. "Honey, I think it's time you should come home…"

The boy stood deathly still, the voice on the other end sounding as though it were coming from right beside him now. His eyes widened as his breath got caught in his throat, a horrible wheezing noise touching his ears. His mouth formed the word "no" though no sound departed from his lips. He turned slowly, his distraught golden orbs falling on the remains of his mother. He could feel a cry escape his throat, though he was frozen in horror at the sight of her.

Gray strands of spaghetti-stringed hair fell just past her bony shoulders, dead flesh hanging off of it in clumps. Dull, lifeless green eyes burned into his, fear rising within his soul. A skeletal face with some of its facial muscles and tendons dangling from it met his, crystalline tears running down her cheeks. The dress that the woman was buried in was rotted, holes decorating it thoroughly, giving way for the poor boy's eyes to see the decaying flesh that lay underneath of it. He watched in horror as she moved closer to him, her bones creaking and grinding with every step.

"Edward…" the voice filtered through the air and straight into his soul. The receiver fell to the floor with a loud thumping noise, his hand unable to stop the shaking that was wracking it from the inside out. "What's wrong, Edward? It's me…your mother…Don't you remember me, or have you forgotten what's become of the woman you couldn't save?" she asked, moving steadily towards him, forcing the boy to back up, straight into a wall.

"Please," he whispered, tears streaming down his face as well, his legs slowly giving out on him. "Please, just go away," he breathed, his chest moving in and out faster and faster.

"But I have been away, Edward. It's been two years, and all this time I've been waiting, waiting for you to come back and retrieve me from this darkness that has consumed my soul. Why haven't you come back, Edward? Why?" she questioned, reaching a skeletal hand out to him. "I've been waiting all this time…It's so cold, Edward, so _cold_, and lonely…Why don't you join me?" she screeched suddenly, the boy feeling her hand grab a hold of him, cutting into his flesh.

It was his own screaming that woke him.

The blonde sat up straight with a gasp, a white blanket falling off him and flowing to the floor. He looked around, realizing he was inside a room, more than likely a doctor's judging by the different medical instruments that decorated the walls. Without thinking, a name flew out of his mouth, quite loudly at that.

"Al! Alphonse!" he yelled, jumping down off the make-shift bed, only to fall flat on his face, his equilibrium more than a little off. With a frustrated grunt, he pushed himself up off the floor, dizziness still mocking his sense of balance. "Al!" he tried again, hobbling to the door, it opening before his hand could even touch the knob. He looked up, relieved to see his brother standing in front of him, steel suit and all.

"Relax, Brother. It's okay," Al couldn't help but laugh a little at the expression on his older brother's face, silently thankful that the twelve year old was finally awake after slipping in and out of consciousness for the past two days.

"Where are we?" Edward immediately questioned, the smell of ammonia hitting his nose. The disdain he held for hospitals was almost as bad as the disdain he held for milk, though the latter outweighed the former slightly. His brow furrowed as he looked around, preparing himself for the outburst that was about to befall his own lips.

"Calm down, Ed. We're at a doctor's office," his little brother explained, looking down at the blonde. Immediately, the younger boy could see the elder one's eyes flare up, as though lit by an invisible flame. "Before you go crazy, I thought I'd let you know that it's been two days since you've been fully awake, so you might want to sit back down," Al stated, guiding the smaller one back towards the make-shift bed.

"I don't know why we have to stay here any longer. I'm perfectly fi-" the boy's words were cut off as he tripped over the forgotten blanket that lay on the floor.

"I can tell," Alphonse politely interjected with an amused tone, immediately helping the smaller boy up off the floor and back onto the bed. "We arrived in town late last night, and I was lucky enough to run into the doctor that runs this office. He was just about to close up when I told him about you and he offered to look at you. Your leg got infected along the way here. He said that's why you had such a high fever and couldn't remain conscious," the eleven year old divulged the information as quickly as he could, trying his best to keep the other boy calm. "Your fever must have broke. How do you feel?" he asked, inwardly wishing he could touch his brother's forehead, just to see if he was still burning up or not.

"Fine. So…let's go," the older boy tried so desperately to stand back up once again, only to get pushed gently back down by his younger, bigger brother.

"Uh uh, I don't think so, Ed. You at least have to stay here until he comes back. He said he had a house call, and he'd be back as soon as he could. And when you woke up, he wanted to make sure you were okay," he added, sitting down in the chair that was placed beside the bed.

A pout formed on the older one's mouth, his lips curling slightly. He glanced down at his leg only to find he was in his blue boxers, his right leg wrapped up nice and tight, and quite stiff at that. He shifted slightly on the uncomfortable bed, his hyperactivity getting the better of him. A noticeable shiver shook his shoulders, he crossing his arms in response.

Alphonse looked down at him, knowing the boy was too stubborn to admit his weakness. Without a word, the younger boy picked up the discarded blanket and wrapped it around the twelve year old's shoulders, seeing the goosebumps that had formed on his brother's pale skin.

"Where are my clothes?" Ed inquired, glancing around the room, growing antsy once more even though his teeth were chattering.

"Ed…lie down, okay? The doctor's just going to take them right back off when he examines you so there really isn't a point now, is there?" Alphonse tried to reason, immediately feeling bad at the look on the smaller boy's face. "What? What's wrong, Brother?" he asked, his voice laced with innocence. "Did I…do something?" He knew his brother was self-conscious, he just hadn't thought it had gotten so bad that Edward was like that in front of him now too.

"I just want to get out of here," the blonde grumbled, glancing around the room. "Where are we anyways?" he asked, his brow narrowed in frustration, not planning on this detour they had so nicely gotten on the path of.

"Landon," the younger boy replied, pulling Ed's suitcase out from underneath the bed. "We're pretty close to Kiase," he stated as he pulled out his older brother's black undershirt and pants. "I think the doctor said that its only another ten kilometers to the west, so we should get there as soon as you're well," the eleven year old added, handing the clothes to his older brother.

"What are you talking about? I am well! I'm fine, Al! And you talk about me worrying too much," he said in his familiar cynical tone as he slowly stood to his feet after slipping on his undershirt.

Upon seeing how hard of a time the older boy was having with his balance, Alphonse held out a gauntlet for Ed to steady himself on so he wouldn't fall over again. But the kind gesture went unnoticed for the moment, the elder boy taking it upon himself to get dressed, not even paying attention to the gloved hand that was awaiting him.

"Brother," Al mumbled, adjusting his metal arm so that it would clank, hoping silently that it would grab his brother's attention, no matter how short its span was.

"I'm doing something here, Al," the elder boy stated through grit teeth, trying to stand and keep himself up as he slipped his wounded leg through the now loose material. "So give me just a--"

"Ed," Al repeated, nearly shoving his gloved hand in front of his older brother's nose, the elder boy finally catching his drift.

"Oh, right. Thanks," he muttered albeit sheepishly, actually accepting help for once. His hand shook as he gripped the gauntlet, his body still weak from undernourishment and the infection. He clenched his jaw, pulling the shiny, black material up past his hips and zipping them. He leaned back against the table as he buckled his belt, the leather material appearing to be a little too big now. The boy paid no attention to the fact, sitting back down on the bed and searching for his boots.

"Brother, why-"

Alphonse's words were cut off by the door opening once more, the doctor entering the room. Edward looked over, studying the man who was supposedly helping them. He appeared to be around the age of forty, with neatly cut brown hair, a few stray strands gracing his lined forehead. His eyes appeared kind enough, they a chocolate brown color. He had a medium build, and wore the familiar white coat with a white button-up shirt and black slacks underneath. He glanced over at the two boys, a warm smile lighting up his face.

"I see you're awake, Edward. How do you feel?" he asked, making his way over to the bed. "You gave your brother quite a scare," he said with a grin, taking a thermometer out of his coat pocket.

"I feel just fine, Dr.-" the boy cut himself off purposely, not one to trust new faces, especially medical ones. His brow was narrowed, not liking how his day was beginning.

"Dr. Hocram," the man replied, inserting the temperature device in the boy's mouth, letting out a chuckle as the kid tried to talk. "You'll be able to ask whatever you want in just a moment," he stated, as he took out his stethoscope. He laughed a little harder when he saw the boy backing away into the bed, his brow furrowed. "You really are afraid of doctors, aren't you?" the doctor questioned, his stare growing serious. "Well, Edward, you have my word that if anyone asks, I never saw you," he added, removing the thermometer from the boy's lips. "A low grade fever, but nothing like you came in here with. Alphonse tells me you boys are on your way to Kiase. Must be something important, hmm?" the dark haired man asked, pressing the cold piece of the stethoscope to the boy's chest.

"Don't talk to us like you know us," the first signs of bitterness enchanted the boy's mouth, his golden eyes taking on a defensive air.

"Brother!" Al scolded, looking over at the stubborn twelve year old who had pushed himself further back on the bed, trying to scoot away from the doctor as far as possible.

"Don't worry, it's quite alright," Dr. Hocram interjected with a smile. "After what you boys have been through, it's completely understandable," the man said, glancing at the younger of the two siblings.

"You told him?" the instant exclamation parted the older sibling's lips, his eyes lit by that invisible flame again. His cheeks were flushed with anger, his mouth slowly forming a frown.

"Yes, he told me that you two were on your way to Kiase and your train derailed, and that you got lost trying to find the town. I'm amazed you two made it here as quickly as you did. You must've walked day and night," he said, surprise in his tone as he looked between the boys.

Edward's gaze immediately landed on Alphonse, guilt gripping his insides. The eleven year old had walked for two days straight with the older boy on his back, probably not even stopping to rest. His golden eyes gleamed, partially with pride for his younger sibling, and partially with the sadness that was starting to envelope him.

"We have important business to attend to, and with Brother in the condition he was in, I thought it to be best to keep going until I found something. Luckily, I wound up here. Thank you very much for letting us stay here, sir," the innocent tone filtered through the metallic suit, his soul-filled eyes trained on the doctor.

"It's no problem," the older man replied, looking back at Edward. "Would you mind if I took a look at your leg? Before you go?" the doctor asked, his tone gentle.

Without a word, the older boy scooted forward, rolling his ripped pants leg up, not wanting to part with the black material again.

"Ed…" Al's voice streamed through the blonde's ears, the twelve year old reluctantly responding by taking off his slacks. He immediately folded his arms, not understanding the big fuss about his leg anyway. It was just a silly gash, after all. As nonchalant as he tried to be, as soon as the doctor touched his leg, he jumped, the wound still a bit tender after all.

"Did that hurt?" Dr. Hocram asked, raising an eyebrow as he unfolded more of the bandage from Ed's leg.

"A little," the twelve year old replied through grit teeth, his brow furrowed. His jaw clenched tightly as his fingers dug into the white sheet, still tinged with his sweat. "Are we done yet?" he inquired, his golden eyes glowing with anger and pain.

"Just about. It's still leaking a little fluid, but that's only natural with your movements and all. You'll have quite a scar when it's healed, but other than that, you should be fine," he explained, rewrapping it with a clean bandage. The man was silent for a moment, finally deciding to ask the question that had been on his mind since Alphonse had carried the unconscious boy into his office. "I can't help but ask, but how did it happen?"

"How did _what _happen?" Ed asked in a bemused tone, one eyebrow arching in confusion. He watched the older man search for the right words, they finally meeting his ear.

"How did you lose your limbs? It must've been a pretty nasty accident," the man observed, his eyes tracing the intricate design of the automail, wondering how a person so young could have had something so awful happen to them.

"It was," Edward replied without giving a definitive answer. He stood to his feet once more, pulling up his pants and reaching for his boots. Even though his eyes were trained on the clean, tiled floor, the twelve year old saw the look the man had given him, and it didn't contain pity. "Thank you for your services, Dr. Hocram," the boy said, trying to stand as straight as he could without his leg giving out on him. "You will be paid in full by the Sta-"

"The State can keep its money, son," the man interrupted the twelve year old, and quite abruptly at that. "I have no need for it," he stated, his face masqueraded by an expressionless mask.

The man's statements caught the boy off guard, his golden eyes drifting from the gaze he held with the floor to the man's mysterious chocolate colored eyes. "And why's that?" Edward couldn't help but ask, never knowing anyone to refuse money of any kind before.

The doctor stared at him for a moment before speaking. "The State and its military aren't exactly the most gracious, Mr. Elric. They can hand out all the money and reimbursements they want, but none of that money will pay for the crimes they have committed in the past. I can only give you my sympathy for being one of their dogs. How you got yourself into that situation is none of my business, son, but I can only hope you get yourself out of it, and soon." He gave the twelve year old one last look before turning towards the door, his white coat brushing past him.

"You sound as though you used to be one of their dogs," the assumption found its way out of the State Alchemist's lips, a smirk sneaking its way across his youthful visage.

The man stopped, his hand on the doorknob. He stared straight, a low sigh escaping his lips. "Whatever you are looking for, I'm doubtful you'll find it in the place your going to. Nothing lives there but rumors and old wives tales. You'll find it's only more trouble than its worth. But I'm just an old man, what do I know, right?" he asked, a touch of wistfulness on his breath. He glanced back at the bewildered boy as he opened the door. "All I can say is be careful, son. Trouble has and always will find its way to those people." He closed the door behind him, leaving a very angry and frustrated blonde in his midst.

&&&&&

"Now do you really think that was necessary?" a throaty voice floated through the air, a hint of mischief concealed in the woman's tone.

"Of course it was. It's not my fault humans are so nosey. Always getting into business they shouldn't be in," another voice replied, this one a bit deeper than the first.

"So are things going according to plan?" the first woman questioned, her violet eyes trained on the individual standing before her.

"Those fools will be searching night and day for that pipsqueak after _Miss Lane's _retelling of her version of the story. I wonder what they'll do when they find out she's already dead," the second one wondered sarcastically, placing a contemplating finger to their chin.

"Well done, Envy. Are we moving on to step two then?" the ebony-haired woman questioned, a hand going to her hip.

"Not yet. We still have a few more loose ends to tie up, if you know what I mean," Envy grinned in a way that could only be described as deviously.

"Lust," another voice came from behind the first woman, this one asking in a pleading tone. "I'm hungry."

"Don't worry, Gluttony, you'll be able to have something soon," Lust smiled, watching the shorter homunculi that had become a constant companion at her side. "Very soon," she added, a wicked grin accompanying the statement. "Let's go."

**Author's note : Wow! Hey look at that, it finally ended. And now ya gotta deal with a terribly long author's note. I just want to say how thankful and grateful I am for the amount of support I'm getting from you guys, all of you(even the silent ones;). Thank you all so, so much, because I never thought I was going to get this far. So, seriously, THANK YOU:D**

**Hopefully, this chapter sufficed. And yes, the homunculi have finally made an appearance! **

**Once again, THANKS goes to Aemilia Rose, ssj2raider, cuylerjade, ThePatheticWriter, Flashlight Maniac, BlackHalliwell, karikado, Roy-Fan-33, Me and My God Complex, Hitokiri Musei, CrystalMind, Birth of Venus, hyperdude, TelevisionGod, Akamori-chan, JChrys, Lyemi, marufu-chan, Legendary Chimera, vampirelf, Harryswoman, demon thing, Kisathe silent, DarkAmber112, New Dragon Rider, Naruto82muchramen, and all of you who have reviewed or put me on a fav list. **

**I should have a few one-shots coming out, not sure when though. Oh, well, hope you enjoyed! ;)**

P.S. I have a question for all of you. Is Edward more than a year older than Al, or less? For example : One year and a few months, or like eleven months and a day? This has been bothering me for some reason. If anyone knows, please let me know! Thanks! ; )

P.P.S Sorry I didn't get a chance to reply to all of you this time, but I promise I will next time!


	19. The Longer I Go, The Less I Know

**Title : Whispers of a Nightmare**

**Genre : Anime/Manga**

**Category : Full Metal Alchemist**

**Disclaimer : Nope, this one belongs to someone else as well. **

**Summary : Takes place after the incident with Nina. Something's wrong with Ed, and Al just can't quite figure out what it is. Serious situations and angst ensue.**

**Warnings : Angst, mild language, violence, and other issues that shall go unnamed for now. I don't want to give away too much of the plot just yet, now do I? ;)**

**Rating : T **

**Chapter 19 : The Longer I Go, The Less I Know**

The hazel eyed man could have sworn his heart had stopped beating if it weren't for the fact that it was pulsating so loudly in his ears. His mouth went dry as the gleam of the object came into view, he immediately going for the spare weapons he kept up his sleeve, so to speak. He heard the faint sound of disoriented snapping in his ears, realizing that his counterpart was not in the greatest of states.

"Dammit, Roy," he muttered through grit teeth, moving as fast he possibly could to push the slightly shorter man behind him. "You never did know when to quit, did you?" he joked, even though they were in the situation they were in. He could feel the cool steel of the weapon chill his palm, though the usual reassurance of having it did not ease over him as it should have. Instead, it was a replaced with fear, a feeling he wished he never would have known. His throat went dry once more, the saliva he so badly needed temporarily banished from his tongue.

He could hear his comrade still fumbling around behind him, his ungloved fingers still snapping persistently. Though the distraction was minute, it was still enough for him to lose his concentration, the steel blade becoming slippery and falling to the ground with all due thanks to the sweat his palm had acquired. "Dammit!" he hissed, the seconds passing by too quickly for his liking. It was too late, the stranger was within three feet of them now, leaving only one option open. "Sorry, Roy," Maes mumbled, pushing the intoxicated man to the ground, ready to take whatever pain was going to come.

He waited, and waited, but there was nothing. No shots, no puncturing of flesh, no nothing. He carefully opened the eyes that he hadn't realized were closed, only to see a young man around the age of thirty standing very confused and slightly frightened in front of him. He arched a surprised eyebrow at this, his heart still palpitating in his eardrums.

"Um, sorry to bother you, sir, but your friend left this at the tavern," the young bartender stated shakily as he placed the silver State Alchemist's pocket watch in the Major's hand. "I'm really sorry, I didn't mean..."

"Don't worry about it," Hughes easily interjected with a wave of the hand. "My friend and I have just had a long night. Sorry about the confusion," he stated with a sheepish grin, a nervous hand going to the back of his head. "Um, thanks," he added with a nod, the embarrassed grin still in place.

"Um, no problem, sir," the bartender replied, his voice still quavering a bit. The young man turned quickly, making his way back to the tavern.

An exasperated sigh escaped the Major's lips, a loose strand of his chocolate colored hair getting in his eyes. "That's it. No more trips to the bar without my supervision," he declared as he pulled the highly confused but ready to fight Lieutenant Colonel off the rain littered ground. "Next time, glue this to yourself so I don't think the guy's going to kill us when he comes charging at us, okay?" Maes lightly scolded, fastening the chain to Roy's belt loop.

Mustang's visage was a mix of melancholy and anger, his onyx eyes staring past the man that was standing before him. The beat of his heart had slowed considerably, but there was still an unknown fear planted deep within his soul, and even in his drunken state, he could still feel it creeping through his nerves, as numb as they were.

"What were you going to tell me?" the ebony haired man inquired, trying his best to look coherent enough to understand what the other man had to say. He trained his sight on his best friend, meeting the other man's concerned gaze.

"That can wait until we get back to the inn. Come on," Maes offered, holding out an arm for the man to steady himself on.

The Lieutenant Colonel groggily shook his head, pushing the Hughes' arm away in the process. His narrowed brow stared forward at the damp street that lay ahead of them, his brain commanding his legs to move forward. They did, though the result of walking in a straight line was left to be desired. He stumbled, the dizziness surrounding him like a pack of wolves closing in on their prey.

"Stubborn ass," Hughes muttered under his breath, catching the man before he could fall flat on his face. "Has anything suspicious happened since you've been here?" he asked after a few minutes of walking, even more on the lookout after what had just taken place.

The other man contemplated the question, a smart remark hanging on the tip of his inebriated tongue. "If you don't count what just happened, then the answer is no. Nothing strange except for the looks I've been getting for the past forty-eight hours," he replied, the trademark smirk pushing up the corners of his lips.

"Well, that goes without saying, doesn't it?" Maes shot back, getting in a touch of sarcasm for the other man to wallow in a bit. He glanced up, thankful the inn was less than ten yards away. The rain had let up for the moment, though a light drizzle was still confiscating the air. "Do you remember the number of the room you were in?" he asked with hesitance, praying the alcohol would wear off sooner rather than later.

"I don't need to remember," the dark haired man answered simply. "Not when she's waiting for me," he added, pointing to the lone figure that was standing complacently in the shadows.

Hughes looked up, seeing Hawkeye step into view, relief flooding over his system. "He had a little too much," he whispered, motioning with his index finger and thumb while squinting an eye.

"I see," the woman stated, placing another arm around their ranking officer, the worry that was rooted inside fading a bit, though not completely; never completely.

"I'm judging by the looks of things that the boys haven't made it here yet," Hughes presumed as they helped Mustang up the rickety steps to the inn entrance, quietly making their way inside without too much noise.

"No, they haven't, and I believe that's partially the reason why the Colonel is the way he is at the moment," Riza stated, glancing over at the Major.

"Should've known," Maes mumbled with a shake of the head. "Well, that doesn't help matters much now does it?" he asked, his tone serious as it befell the First Lieutenant's ears.

"You both can stop talking about me like I'm deaf now," the Lieutenant Colonel stated in the best authoritative tone he could muster, raising his head up and giving them both slightly angered glances.

"Sorry, sir," Hawkeye responded immediately, tensing at the sound of his voice, whereas Hughes just let out a quiet chuckle and a roll of the eyes, not even bothering to humor the still half-drunken man.

They made their way into Mustang's room and closed the door carefully behind them, the First Lieutenant quick to make sure it was locked and secured. For some reason, she just didn't want to take her chances around this town, no matter how quiet and serene it appeared. Appearances always seemed to be deceiving when it came to the military and the people that were involved. She disappeared into the bath room, extracting a few things from the medicine cabinet.

"Geez, Roy, always one to attract trouble, aren't you? And I thought the Elrics were bad about that..." Maes started with the tirade of sarcasm, inwardly knowing it was one of the only ways to pull the Lieutenant Colonel out of his drunken stupor.

"Trouble?" Hawkeye questioned with a hint of worry in her tone as she returned from the other room with a few pills and a glass of water in her hands. "What kind of trouble?" she queried, staring at the Major as she attended to Roy.

"Well-" Hughes started, ready to go into all out exaggerated mode, a frightening tale of suspense and horror ready to befall his lips until he was so _politely_ cut off by the other man, his eyes now slightly more alert and awake.

"I _accidentally_ left my pocket watch behind at the drinking establishment I was so cordially invited to, and due to bad lighting and poor judgment on both of our parts," he stated, raising an eyebrow in Hughes direction, "We mistook the watch to be a weapon instead of what it truly was." After ending his thorough explanation, he took the aspirin and water from his subordinate, swallowing both as his companions sat in wait until he was finished. "Now, Hughes, you said you have important information to tell me. Divulge away," he said with a wave of the hand, an expressionless mask diluting his features.

"Alright. You'll recall that two days ago, I called you with information regarding a Miss Lane," he began, looking between the other two officers. "Well, after investigating further, and talking to the remaining witnesses, I found out that Miss Lane was actually killed in the derailment." He paused at this, seeing the silent confusion that was slowly corrupting his fellow officers' eyes. "At first I thought that they had to be mistaken, but after making a few calls, it turns out that her body was identified by her husband back at Central. And everything checks out, meaning that the woman I talked to--"

"Wasn't her," Roy finished quietly, discontent in his eyes. "Well, this certainly broadens the spectrum, doesn't it? So we have a dead woman telling tales, but for what reason and why?" he questioned out loud, a contemplating finger gracing his cheek.

"That's not all, Roy. I received a complete description of Mrs. Janet Lane, and it fits the woman I talked to right down to the very last detail," Maes explained, a hint of dread lacing the man's hazel eyes. "Which means we're dealing with more than just you're out of the ordinary yet still routine train derailment here." The man paused once more, fishing some papers out of his back pocket and adjusting his glasses. "Alright, in the statement _Miss Lane _gave to me, she said that she witnessed someone wearing a red coat transmuting the tracks. Of course we all know that that description only fits Ed, but if Miss Lane is dead..."

"Then who's trying to frame Edward?" Hawkeye let the question they were all thinking roll off her tongue, her brow narrowed in thought. "Permission to speak, sir?" she requested automatically, inwardly knowing she could give off any suggestion she wanted and the man would be listening, permission or not. Mustang nodded, giving her the go ahead. "I think you should inform the Fuhrer of these findings, sir, and request backup if necessary. Tell him what you stumbled upon, and your findings, and the information that we have so far. Whatever is going on here sounds like the work of more than one person, and in the least, sophisticated and thought out. Sir, I do not believe that Edward Elric transmuted those tracks, but if he didn't, someone else did. And that person, whoever they may be, are dangerous, and prepared to kill without a second thought. I don't think this is a minor situation, sir," she ended, prepared for his analysis on her proposition.

The Lieutenant Colonel was silent for a moment, his obsidian eyes fixed on the moon that had miraculously appeared in the charcoal-grey sky above. He stood to his feet, swaying ever so slightly as he made his way over to the window, quiet still resting temporarily on his lips. He folded his arms across his chest, it rising and falling slowly.

"Sir?" Hawkeye asked, her tone slightly hushed, her cinnamon eyes trained on the stubbornly nonvocal man standing in front of her.

"I don't know what's going on around here, but I do know that every time I see this town, a nauseating feeling arises in the pit of my stomach. When I was younger, I heard stories about this place, and I'm not necessarily saying that I believe in them, but at least now I know they weren't exactly untrue. I just can't believe it's taken me this long to realize it," the uncharacteristic confession befell his partially intoxicated tongue, his gaze still transfixed on the town that sat in front of him. "But if those boys have gotten themselves into the mess I think they've gotten themselves into, then I believe you're right. I'll report to the Fuhrer first thing in the morning," he stated, his hardened stare still facing the window.

"And you're sure about this? It is possible that the more attention we attract to this whole thing, the worse it could get," Hughes inquired, only to answer his own question. "Though the possibility of something happening to the boys because of us not making a slight commotion about the whole thing..." the man's voice trailed off, not wanting to finish his own thoughts, however much truth he could hold to them.

"It's settled then. I suggest the both of you get some rest beforehand. Today's going to be a busy day," Mustang announced with a smirk before disappearing into the bathroom, the running of water suggesting the two take heed of his suggestion.

"Looks like I'd better go call Gracia and let her know I won't be home again tonight," Hughes said as he too stood to his feet, making his way towards the door. "You might wanna go in there, make sure he doesn't pass out or something," he gave off a grin, seeing the unrequited anger in the blonde's eyes and the slight flush run across her cheeks, she slamming the door in the man's face in reflex. "Hey, isn't your room next door? Or are you two _sharing_ tonight?" His eyebrows arched when he heard the sound of a gun cocking on the other side of the door, he immediately turning towards the stairs. "Women..."

&&&&&

"Hey, wait a second!" Edward called after the man, anger and impatience creeping into his tone. Quickly sliding his boots on and ignoring the pain and dizziness that pursued him, he made his way out of the room, blatantly letting his little brother's calls fall on deaf ears.

"Ed! Ed, what are you doing?" the eleven year old's voice emanated from the steel suit, a breathless sigh escaping the metal prison. He immediately went after the smaller boy, grabbing the few possessions they had brought in the process.

"What do you know?" the twelve year old questioned a little too loudly, slowly but surely catching up with the older man. "Don't ignore me!" he shouted as the man continued to walk down the hall, only stopping when the blonde got in his way.

They stood in silence for a moment, Edward's glare traveling up to the man that was at least a foot taller than him, though the height differential was the last thing on the child's mind.

"We didn't come all this way to be told to go back," Ed started, his golden orbs flaring with a silent compassion only his brother could recognize. "Every person I come across tells me that it's just a waste of time, and not to go there because there's nothing there for me. Well, you know what, _Doctor_, I think you're lying and there's something you don't won't to tell me! What do you know?" he exclaimed, golden strands falling in his face.

The older man stared at him for a long moment, a seriousness touching his features that hadn't presented itself there before. Pain slowly leaked though his aged visage, curiosity attached as well. His clenched fists slowly loosened, falling limp at his sides, though faintly—just faintly, Edward could see the Doctor's hands shaking, though unsure of whether or not it was out of anger or out of fear.

"Tell me something, Edward. What was your purpose of joining the military? Why in the world would you want to be apart of something that you have no clue about?" Dr. Hocram inquired, staring down at the youth who was determined to go undefeated for once.

"I don't think that's any of your business, now is it?" the twelve year old asked raising an eyebrow, anger seeping across his weary features. Double vision taunted him silently, tugging at the corners of his sight. He gritted his teeth in response, trying desperately to hold his ground.

"So you want to question me, but I can't get any information out of you? That doesn't sound like Equivalent Exchange to me, Edward. And I do believe that would only be fair, don't you? After all, isn't that the first principal of alchemy, or do I stand corrected?"

Something about the man's sudden change in tone and stature made the boy slightly nervous, the Doctor most definitely knowing more than he wanted to let on. Deciding that if he truly wanted the knowledge the man was teasing him with, the fact of divulging a bit of his own was his only option.

"Alright then, fine," the twelve year old stated with determined curiosity. "I joined the military to fix something I messed up a long time ago. I made a promise to my brother, and I'm determined to do whatever it is I have to do to fix my mistake. Your turn," Edward ended, making sure for once that he didn't open his mouth too wide.

"And you actually think that the State is going to help you accomplish whatever it is that you set out to do?" Dr. Hocram asked incredulously, a laugh almost befalling his lips.

"Yes, I do!" the boy exclaimed indignantly, clenching his jaw tight, only making his sunken cheeks delve in further, his cheek bones overly prominent.

"And tell me, son, did the State make you like that as well?" the older man queried, slightly amused at the confusion that was now washing over the boy's face.

"Make me like what?" Edward questioned, anger swimming in his tone. What the man was asking him was slowly starting to come to mind, and it was exactly the question that he'd been trying to avoid for the last few weeks.

"If you extract the weight of the automail, you're at least twenty-five pounds underweight for someone of your height," the Doctor explained, his tone turning completely serious yet placid, his dark eyes transfixed on the golden ones staring up at him, seemingly larger than what they were supposed to be.

The moment the man said those words, Edward could feel his heart try to beat its way out of his chest. He tried so hard not to look as if the statement stung, but he could feel its aftertaste, burning in his lungs. And it didn't help that his little brother was standing less than ten feet away, surely anger riling in his soul. But stubborn and ready as ever, he stood his ground, his gaze never faltering.

"I've always been small for my age," he stated through carefully grit teeth, not wanting to admit any truth whatsoever to the Doctor's statement, inwardly knowing the older man was right. But there was no way the boy was going to give in, he had to be strong, plain and simple.

"Small for you age or not, it appears as though you haven't eaten a full meal in quite a long time. And if you don't start soon, those mechanical limbs of yours will be the first to shut down. I'm actually surprised they haven't yet due to your undernourishment. They are bio-mechanical, are they not?" he inquired, an almost satisfied smile tugging at his lips.

Anger flushed the boys cheeks into a crimson color, his ears not wanting to hear any more of it. And with the pounding of his heart flushing through his head, he was too busy concentrating on that than the words his brain was trying to make his mouth formulate.

"My limbs and my eating habits are none-"

"Brother!" Alphonse interjected, anger eating at his soul. He tried so hard to be patient with his older sibling, but in instances like this, that patience had all but disappeared. "He's just trying to ask you a few questions, Ed, so let him. He is a doctor after all, right? And if he thinks there's something wrong then-"

"There's nothing wrong with me, Al! And you know it!" the blonde immediately defended himself, his chest rising and falling quickly. "All he's doing is avoiding my questions!" He paused, turning towards Dr. Hocram. "You want to use Equivalent Exchange? Alright then, Doctor, you've asked me plenty now it's your turn. Were you in the military?"

The older man stared at him with uncertainty for a moment, letting the truths and lies alike find their way to his lips. "Yes, I was," he answered simply, much too casually for Edward's taste. There had to be more to it than that. Though now the curiosity about this man was starting plague his soul, for reasons unknown.

The twelve year old stared up at the older man, anger narrowing his brow. This was not how he wanted the conversation to go, and the fact that the longer it continued, the more he felt like a fool in the Doctor's eyes. "So you were a dog as well," the blonde started, pulling as much confidence as he could muster up. "And what did you do there? Were you a State Alchemist too?" he questioned, folding his arms, his balance silently mocking him.

The man could not help but smile at the boy's determined anger, though the depressing thought of the kid's health and his condition worried him. If the twelve year old wasn't careful, the mission he was on could kill him, and from the looks of it, it was sure as hell trying.

"No, actually I served as a Doctor for the State. Wherever they needed me, I went. I was stationed in Central for quite awhile until the Ishbal Rebellion. Afterwards, I decided that the military was more of a waste of time than I had first thought, so I quit and traveled west. I finally wound up in Landon and have been here ever since, helping those that actually need it," the dark haired man explained, his voice calm and collected. Apparently, the child wasn't impressed.

"And what was it exactly that made you leave?" Edward asked, biting back the nausea that was stirring in his stomach. He swayed slightly, inwardly hoping that no one had noticed, though he knew that was a bit of an impractical thought.

"Once you're in it for long enough, you'll understand. You should rest before you go. The walk still won't be pleasant, even if it is fairly close," Dr. Hocram informed the twelve year old who was growing more temperamental by the moment.

"Don't change the subject," Edward stated bitterly, his golden orbs taking in everything about the older man that he could. Though as hard as he tried, he still couldn't figure out the reason why he had taken an instant disliking to the man. Perhaps, it was the fact that he was a doctor. Perhaps.

"And you might care to eat something as well," the man continued, ignoring Ed's stubbornness of trying to get anymore out of him. But the boy wouldn't go down without a fight, that was for sure. "If you lose any more weight, your body might not be able to support your arm and leg."

"What do you know about Kiase?" the blunt exclamation left the boy's near trembling lips, heat on his breath. He swallowed back the bitter taste of the saliva that was polluting his mouth, it making him want to wretch. The man's silence only fueled the fire that burned in his golden eyes even more. "Give me one good reason why we shouldn't go there," he offered, a satisfied victory smirk tugging at his mouth.

"If you want to keep that promise to your brother, then I'd suggest listening to me. There's a reason why the military is not needed nor called to that town. They prefer to do things—_all_ things, without their help. And if you choose to meddle in their affairs as you probably will, take that very fact into consideration," the man warned, the lines in his forehead and jaw taking form, he now appearing much older for some reason.

The boy took this in, though one question he still needed to ask had not yet left his vocal chords. Lifting his gaze from the floor, he stared up at the man, his lips seemingly curled into a pout. "You said you're familiar with the town of Kiase. Have you ever had to make a trip there, for medical purposes?" he asked, the fine line of the boy's maturity being crossed.

The Doctor was surprised at the twelve year old's sudden sense of seriousness, a thick, dark eyebrow raising in response. "A few times, yes, and neither of those times were very pleasant," he stated honestly, taking note of how sick the boy really looked.

"And why's that?" Edward queried, bile spilling into his throat again. He choked it down silently, his stomach recoiling in reflex. He grit his teeth, his insides giving his brain the signal that if they didn't consume something edible soon, all hell would break loose. And it would not be a pretty sight.

"You really are quite stubborn, aren't you, son?" Dr. Hocram asked, a smile appearing faintly on his lips, hiding his fear momentarily.

"I do what I have to do to find out the truth, sir," he stated, his golden gaze never faltering. His stare shifted for just a moment, falling on the little brother that had worked so hard to get him to where he was at. The eleven year old was standing just behind the Doctor, his metallic helmet fixed at the floor, his soul-filled eyes flickering, the sight making the elder boy's heart break. He forced himself to look away from the younger boy and back at Dr. Hocram. "Have you ever heard of a woman by the name of Lydia LaShea?" the question rolled off the blonde's tongue, his golden eyes searching the man for any indication of recognition of the woman's name. Even now, it sent chills down the State Alchemist's spine.

"You certainly are more knowledgeable than I first thought," the almost sharp remark exited the doctor's mouth, his chocolate eyes staring deep into Edward's. "So that's what you're going to Kiase for; to see that woman." The man let out a scoff, touched with a pinch of laughter.

"You know her?" Edward and Alphonse questioned in unison, the surprise of the man's knowledge turning off the younger one's oath of sudden silence.

The Doctor took his turns staring at them, studying each one intently. "Lydia LaShea is one that could only be classified in medical terms as psychotic. And why you're going to see that woman is beyond me. The things she's done...," his voice trailed off, a hint of hidden terror in his eyes.

"We're not actually going to see her," Alphonse started to explain, politely being cut off by his older brother.

"Yeah, she's dead," Edward finished, holding back any sign of the silent horror that woman had implanted in his blood. Those emerald eyes still managed to see the light of day...

The Doctor looked shocked, to an extent, though part of him expected it. His visage fell to an almost crestfallen state, a twinge of disbelief washing over his features. "Is that right?" he muttered, images of the past suddenly flooding through his mind.

"Yeah, she and her son died...in a fire," the twelve year old informed the older man, his golden eyes burning. His skin was already starting to crawl, those crystal clear emeralds burrowing deeper within him. He repeatedly told himself that the woman was gone and there was no possible way she could get to him, except in his dreams. He nearly shuddered at the thought, though stopped the urge. The twelve year old wanted to cast out any sign of weakness, wanting to appear as strong as possible.

The Doctor listened to the child's words, his brow narrowing as they left the boy's lips. "But that can't be possible. Her son was stillborn."

"How would you know that, Doctor?" Alphonse asked, now standing beside Ed. The eleven year old let their differences go for the time being, deciding that the walk to Kiase would be the best time to discuss them.

"Well, because I was there," the man answered simply with a disbelieving laugh, once again looking between the two boys.

"Did you have anyone with you? Another doctor, or an assistant?" Edward immediately piped up, the anger in his golden orbs transforming into awed interest.

"Well, yes, but—"

"What was his name?" the question flew out of the twelve year old's mouth, leaning forward towards the man, looking like a feline ready to pounce on its prey. For the first time in a long time, the boy showed signs of life in his vibrant orbs.

The Doctor stared at the boy for a moment, recalling the name that had burrowed a hole deep within his memory. The images were still fresh, though the name was another circumstance. Haunting screams of Lydia LaShea proclaiming bloody murder flowed through his mind, he trying his damnedest to block it out.

"It was Raine," the name uttered off the tip of his tongue. "Raine Pierson. I was actually _his_ assistant at the time, believe it or not," he stated, the dream of nostalgia taming his voice as well as his tone. "It was right before I joined the military, or perhaps, the reason why I did. That fool taught me practically everything I know." He paused, a rather angry look pursuing his features. "We had just made it to that damned town when a man came running through the square, going on and on about how his wife was gravely ill and was in need of medical attention.

"So, of course we went, without even giving it a second thought. When we arrived, there was blood all over the place. I almost thought the man had lost his mind until we saw her. She was lying on the floor in a puddle of her own blood, circles and various arrays as you call them scattered about, drawn by her own hand, no less. She was screaming and crying and yelling about how she was pregnant but she feared the child to be dead inside of her, and due to the amount of blood she had lost, it was more than likely correct. Raine gave her a sort of tranquilizer, to calm her down, but it seemed as though it had the opposite affect on her and she went even more mad.

"She kept pleading with us to save the boy, that there had to be a way. But there wasn't. After all, you can't save something that had the possibility of being dead for weeks let alone days. But Raine tried anyway. He told her that if she just relaxed, everything would be alright. But I knew it wouldn't. There was just no way." The man stopped once more, his far off gaze making it perfectly clear that he was reliving the memory of that night, his conscience making it all too vivid.

"The birth was painful, and the woman was clearly on the edge of dying, and as soon as the child was born, you could tell that death was coming to claim her as well. I-I've never heard anyone scream like that in my life. The pure pain and fear that woman held...it was unbearable." His head bowed, his voice starting to shake. "Raine told me to go into town, to tell the people what had happened, and to come back with something that would clean up the blood. When I returned...he was dead, and the woman and man were gone, along with the baby's corpse. I've only returned once to that place, and even then..." His voice trailed off, clearly taken aback by his own recollection of the tale. He stood silent, the boys unearthly silence penetrating his hearing.

Edward was the first to speak, holding back any sort of emotion that he could. Just hearing the man's story sent his soul into despair. "Doctor Pierson, he wasn't apart of the military too, was he?" His voice was soft, faint in the older man's ears.

"To be honest, I really don't know. I had only been with him for a short time before...that experience. I only know that he resided in a town further west of here. I believe it was called Renégauld." The Doctor's eyes were slightly glazed over, he finally lifting his gaze from the floor.

"Thank you for your time, Doctor," Edward stated, standing as tall as he could, staring straight at the man. "Come on, Al. There's been a change of plans," the boy announced quietly as they departed the man's office, the cloudy night sky peering down at them. "We're going to Renégauld."

&&&&&

He felt it again. The dry wind choking his throat, the flying sand burning his eyes. The blaze of the hot desert sun lost in the haze of war, the heat searing nonetheless. But no matter how hot it was, he still shivered, the fear in his soul forthcoming.

He made the same trek once more, walking past the bodies that no longer held life in their eyes. He made his way past the screaming men and women who were either dying or suffering, at the likes of the very military he was working for. But he did not listen to them, left them behind as he was told to do. He had another assignment that was to be completed.

His own footsteps echoed mercilessly throughout his brain, mocking his false sense of security and duty. He had a job to do, no questions asked.

The familiar sign hung above the medical tent, giving welcome to all who were in pain or were in need of help, no matter their race. But their race mattered to the military. The fact that they did not have blue or brown eyes, or skin pale or cream in color; but terrifying red eyes and brown skin, the mark of Ishbal. There was no more room for these people in Amestris. Not anymore. Nor was there room for those two doctors either.

The onyx-eyed man found himself inside the red tent once more, gun cocked and ready to fire. Roy Mustang could feel the beads of sweat gather on his forehead and neck, slowly trickling teasingly down his face and back. He could feel his mouth run dry, and his finger press slightly down on the trigger. But then, everything changed, just as it had in the dream before.

Suddenly, he was no longer the one aiming the gun.

He opened his terrified eyes, seeing the barrel pointed directly at his own forehead. His mouth opened to speak, but he could force nothing to escape but a faint plea. But what caused him the most distress was the person that was holding the weapon.

Two golden eyes peered eerily back into his, the man now feeling his knees give out on him, disbelief flooding through his brain. He could feel his head shaking back and forth, though everything was now being controlled by another presence, not his anymore. He tried to close his eyes, but they were being held open by an invisible force, making him stare directly at the shooter.

The boy's face was strangely placid, though horror marked his fearful golden eyes. His gloved hand was shaking, the metal clanking miserably. Golden strands of blonde swirled about his face, framing the terror-filled child. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice on the edge of breaking. "I'm so sorry...but...it was an order."

The loud explosion that emanated from the gun woke him, he not wanting to stay unconscious long enough to hear his own body drop to the floor. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong; and the alcohol that had tumbled through his system earlier that night was now his most recent regret. Sighing, he laid back down, knowing sleep would not come to claim him for as long as he was in that town. Silently, he hoped nothing else would either.

&&&&&

The office was serenely quiet, the man listening for any sign of life from the outside world that he could, though all was silent and still. He stared out the window, watching the clouds congregate in the sky. He closed his eyes, not understanding why he had told himself so long ago to forget the incident that was now haunting his sight. Those emerald green orbs flashed over and over again, the woman's screams chilling him down to his bones.

He shivered, his eyes slowly landing on the metallic object that was lying on his desk.

For nearly twenty years, he had been subject to visions of Lydia LaShea and the evil that emanated off of her; and just when he thought they were over, he was forced to recall them, as if they had just taken place yesterday.

Even through all the hellish nightmares he had witnessed in the War, nothing outweighed the impact of that woman. And to this day, he still couldn't figure out why. Perhaps, it was time to forget. To forever erase those piercing emerald greens and the dread they brought with them.

He slowly eased the weapon into his hand, blinking back tears as he did so. Yes, the time had finally come to move on. The man nearly smiled at the thought, though his lips could only lift themselves so high.

The cool metal pressed against his skin, a sudden rush of fear washing through his body. He tensed, realizing he was not the only one in the room.

"Go ahead, no one will miss you," the familiar voice cooed, a figure easing out of the shadows.

"No-no, it can't be! You're dead! You're dead!" the Doctor cried out, terrified of the image that was befalling his sight.

"Dead? Now who told you that?" Emerald eyes burned into his, hungry for the life that was still left in his own.

"Please! Please, stop...just go away," he muttered, tears of fright trickling down his cheeks. "Just leave me alone...Please..."

"You just had to open your mouth, didn't you? It's your own fault that I'm here, Doctor. Yours and yours alone," she smiled that pitifully perfect grin, brunette locks falling just past her shoulders. She looked so young, and could have been beautiful, if not for the hate that presented itself within those deep pools of emerald.

Silence rested before them, the sound of the man's heart beating rapidly underneath his skin being the only noise in the room. And the longer he listened, the louder it got.

"Go on, Doctor. That's right," the woman grinned, watching happily as the man lifted the gun to his mouth once more, cocking the trigger as he did so. "See, it's not as hard as it seems, now is it? Just remember, I wasn't the one who killed you."

And just before the _bang_ evaporated through the air, those emerald eyes that had been his ghost for so long turned golden. He had no time to scream as his finger automatically pulled the trigger, all his memories and fears being blasted into oblivion.

"That was just too easy," Envy scoffed, still in the form of Edward Elric. Lazily, he picked up the phone, though carefully dialing the call number.

"Have you cleaned up the mess?" a woman's voice asked casually on the other side of the line, wasting no time for chitchat.

"Of course. I wouldn't have called if I hadn't," Envy replied, watching as Lust held Gluttony back from consuming the now lifeless doctor.

"Good. But remember what I said, you can get close, but not too close. They aren't supposed to expect a thing. Understand?"

"You don't need to explain anything to me, Sloth. I know what I'm doing," Envy shot back fiercely, a scowl creeping over his features.

"Oh, and one more thing; please stop pretending to be my son. That act's getting rather old, don't you think?" Sloth quipped, a smirk resting comfortably across her face, the slamming of the phone on the other end only making it more apparent. She looked up, the Fuhrer entering the office.

"Well?" he asked, glancing over at the woman.

"There's been a slight change of plans," she stated, standing to her feet. "They're on their way to Renégauld."

"Keep an eye on them," he replied, thoughtfully stroking his chin. "Now, what to do about the others..."

**Author's note : I AM SO SORRY for being a day late, everyone. It's probably not that big of a deal, but still...My apologies. ; ) Well, that was a helluva chapter, wasn't it? And it took forever to write too. But as long as you all like it...**

**MANY THANKS goes to Legendary Chimera, Harryswoman, Roy-Fan-33, New Dragon Rider, Aemilia Rose, OrangeKittyAlchemist-Sony, Annabele Lee, hyperdude, Akamori-chan, Flashlight Maniac, Me and My God Complex, JChrys, Lyemi, ssj2raider, vampirelf, wahhooo, CrystalMind, kunoichi-no-yoru, Mistress of Darkness, BlackHalliwell, marufu-chan, Hitokiri Musei, demon thing, ThePatheticWriter, and every single one of you who has left me a review or put me on a list. I SINCERELY, TRULY appreciate it.**

**And for your patience, expect a one-shot tomorrow. ; )**

**P.s. Dr. Hocram never found out that Lydia revived the baby; oh, and I feel stupid for doing this, but if you spell Dr. Hocram backwards, well, you'll see. ;) Yes, I am a dork. XD**


	20. Kiss of the Firefly

**Title : Whispers of a Nightmare**

**Genre : Anime/Manga**

**Category : Full Metal Alchemist**

**Disclaimer : Nope, this one belongs to someone else as well. **

**Summary : Takes place after the incident with Nina. Something's wrong with Ed, and Al just can't quite figure out what it is. Serious situations and angst ensue.**

**Warnings : Angst, mild language, violence, and other issues that shall go unnamed for now. I don't want to give away too much of the plot just yet, now do I? ;)**

**Rating : T **

**Chapter 20 : Kiss of the Firefly **

"Rough night?" Maes Hughes questioned, raising his head up from the newspaper he had been reading. His hazel eyes were met with the sorry sight of the Lieutenant Colonel, eyes more than groggy with sleep and a slightly noticeable hangover.

"Well, due to the unpleasant circumstances that surround us; yes, you could say that," Mustang replied, instantly reaching for the cup of black coffee that had been patiently awaiting his arrival. The bitter taste wracked his tongue, but he needed the bite at the moment, something to wake him from the ungodly state he had awoken in.

"Yeah, me too. I miss Gracia and Elysia so much. You should see her Roy! She's getting so big! That's right, I forgot to show you the new picture I took of her last week!" the tirade of gushing continued to part the man's lips as the newspaper fell carelessly to the floor, the Lieutenant Colonel having only enough energy to restrain from snapping his fingers and singeing his best friend. "Gracia bought her the cutest outfit! See, look!" the Major went on, shoving the picture of a grinning toddler in front of Mustang's angered visage, the black haired man's teeth gritting as more words of mush continued to leave Hughes' mouth.

"Hughes, that's enough!" he snapped, almost as literally as the warning left his clenched jaw. Letting out a broken sigh, his right hand slowly found its way to his temple, his fingertips massaging the throbbing area.

"I'm assuming you haven't talked to the Fuhrer yet," Maes stated, his tone returning to serious mode as he picked up the forgotten newspaper.

Mustang took another long drink of the coffee before replying, holding back the urge to wretch in the process. "No, I haven't. If he heard me like this, he'd think that I was ignoring my responsibilities as a ranking officer. I can't have that, now can I?" he asked, sarcasm aplenty in his voice. "Besides, I'm still stalling for time. After all, he does think we're here because of two serial killers. I wonder how he'll take to the news that all that's left of them are ashes..." his voice trailed off, unable to shake off the smart ass tone he was so good at accomplishing.

"And to think, I can't find anything in this newspaper about two serial killers on the loose. What were their names again? Frick and Frack, you say?" Maes returned with a grin, showcasing his caustic talent as well.

The glare that radiated from the other man's visage did nothing to stop the grin that was still firmly planted on the Major's face, though the thought of Ed and Al still not being there did. A restless sigh escaped the man's normally easy going mannerism, his fingers flipping through the ink-filled pages.

"There's still no sign of the boys, is there?" Mustang inquired, already knowing the answer to his own question. He finished off the coffee, it doing absolutely nothing to ease the pain that was seeping into his soul.

"Nope. That's why the Miss—I mean, that's why Lieutenant Hawkeye's calling around, trying to see what she can find out. Hopefully, they stayed at another inn or something along the way here. At least that'll give us some kind of clue as to where they are," Hughes explained, trying desperately to contain the laughter that wanted to spill out of his mouth upon seeing the anger cross the other man's face. "Hmm, that's strange," he muttered after a quick moment of silence, his brow narrowing.

"What is it?" Roy asked casually, his glare traveling across the table and through the thin piece of paper. He leaned forward, waiting to see if his so-called friend had found something or was just exaggerating another far-fetched story again.

"It says a Doctor in a town not too far away from here killed himself last night. 'Dr. Timothy Hocram was found dead in his medical offices late Wednesday night at approximately eleven o'clock. He died of a self-inflicted gun shot wound to the head. A passerby says that they heard a loud bang and witnessed seeing a flash of light through the windows. Police were called to the scene shortly afterwards where they found his body.' Huh, that's messed up. Hey, wait a second, that name sounds familiar. Hocram..." Hughes voice trailed off, his brow narrowing in thought.

Mustang tried to hide the slight shock that infected his eyes, his brow narrowing as well. "That's because it is," he stated, wishing there was more of the disgusting substance in the empty mug, anything to prevent him from opening his mouth anymore. It didn't help that the headache was skiing down his temples and straight into his jaw.

"You know him?" Maes asked curiously, arching an eyebrow. He set the paper down, staring at the man that sat less that two feet away from him.

"He served in Ishbal. He...was on the medical team there," the Lieutenant Colonel felt the words depart his lips, his grip still tight on the empty mug. He watched with disinterest as his knuckles grew more pale with each second, faint scars appearing. "I can't say I blame him. I guess it finally got to him," he said in a tone that almost sounded wistful, though pain swam just below in its undercurrent.

"Yeah," the quiet mutter befell Hughes' lips, a stray strand of hair falling neatly between his eyes. "I'll be right back. I'm gonna go check on her. See if she's found anything yet," he stated, standing to his feet, albeit with a touch of nervousness.

Mustang nodded in response, inwardly knowing he had a phone call to make as well, though his legs decided to deceive him for the moment and remain still. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Hughes fade into the small crowd, mixing with the few travelers that actually dared to stay in this town. "It must be nice," he muttered, ignoring the numbness that pursued his lower limbs as he forced himself up, glancing back at the picture of the man that graced the front of the page. His eyes squinted as he read further down the article.

_'There were reports of two individuals leaving the offices shortly before the body was found. Their identities are unknown at this time, but they are said to be two young men; one wearing a suit of armor and the other a short blond—'_

He froze upon seeing the two descriptions, his eyes widening to twice their normal size. The sound of his heart palpitating in his ears woke him from the daze he'd fallen into. Immediately, he seized up the piece of paper, his hurried footfalls echoing off the hardwood floor.

"You can hang up the phone, I know where the boys are," he stated as he walked up to Hawkeye, shoving the newspaper into Hughes' chest. "I don't know what the hell—"

"Yes, sir, hold on one moment. He's right here, sir," Hawkeye cut him off as formally as she could, handing the bewildered Lieutenant Colonel the receiver.

"Sorry, sir, it's the Fuhrer," she stated, backing away from the onyx-eyed man.

Clearing his throat, he took the call, prepared to launch another trivial amount of lies. "Lieutenant Colonel Mustang, sir," he greeted formally, nearly standing at attention at the sound of the other man's voice.

"Good morning, Colonel. Has there been any progress in the capturing of the two escapees?" the Fuhrer questioned casually on the other side of the line.

"Actually, sir, they're dead," the onyx-eyed man answered, sounding so believable he almost fooled himself into thinking the story was true. "We were in the process of apprehending them last night when they put up a fight. I had no other choice but to defend Lieutenant Hawkeye and myself, sir," he stated, pointing a finger directly on the point in the article where it referred to Ed and Al, washing the confusion that was wracking the Major's face disintegrate into an image of disbelief. He his back on the two as Hawkeye took in the information.

"I see. Well, I suppose that means you and the Lieutenant will be heading back to Central?" the older man inquired, waiting to hear what the soon-to-be Colonel had to say.

"Under normal circumstances, that would be the case, sir, but it appears that there has been a small uprising in a town not too far away from here. With your permission, I'd like to see what the commotion's all about," the partial truth escaped his lips, his brow narrowed in Edward-like determination.

"Is that right?" Bradley asked with a laugh, leaning forward in his chair. "Should I send reinforcements to accompany you there, Colonel? I wouldn't want things to get out of hand, should an accident happen."

"To be honest, sir, I'd like a go at this alone, with the Lieutenant's accompaniment, of course. If further back-up is needed, I'll request it as soon as I know what's going on," the tall tales continued to spew out of the younger man's mouth, gritting his teeth when he heard a snicker come from behind.

"As you wish. Inform me when you get there, but don't get too curious, Colonel." And with that, the conversation came to an end, a dial tone meeting Mustang's ears.

"Well, sir?" Hawkeye questioned, staring up at the Lieutenant Colonel with an expectant look, curiosity in her cinnamon colored orbs.

"He gave me the go ahead, but we've got to move quick if we're going to catch up with those boys. Even though they left last night, there's no telling where they could be now, as we so _politely_ found out," the words parted his lips and dripping with sarcasm as he gestured towards the newspaper.

"Wait, but isn't this town east of here? So shouldn't the boys be _here_ by now?" Hughes questioned, adjusting his glasses. "Unless you're acting out of pure instinct or whatever it is you call it," he muttered with a roll of the eyes.

"There's a reason why it's taken those two so long to get here; they were either held back by injuries, or they've changed course. Now Landon is approximately ten kilometers to the east, which means that if they started walking last night—"

"They would've made it into town by now, and no less would be staying at this inn judging its the only one here," Maes finished the onyx-eyed man's theory. "We should check with the front desk, just to make sure they didn't check in when we weren't looking?."

"Even though it's highly unlikely, I guess we shouldn't chance it. While I'm looking in on it, you two go get our things. We're leaving regardless if the boys are here or not," Mustang ordered in his usual fashion, his authority outranking everyone including himself. "We'll take the way into town out, and use it to get to Landon."

"Hey, shouldn't I be the one to ask the questions around here? I mean, after all, I am with the investigations bureau, right?" Hughes queried with a wink, immediately getting shot down by the other man.

"I'll meet you two outside in ten minutes. Be ready."

With his orders given, he made his way over to the front desk, already knowing the answer to the question he was about to ask the woman. Whatever trouble those boys had gotten themselves into now involved a deceased doctor, one that Mustang knew of all people, and who knew what else. He only hoped that things couldn't get any worse, because if they did, he only wondered who'd still be alive afterward.

&&&&&

"You need to rest, Ed. We've been walking all night," Al's voice made it through the smaller boy's ears, though his thoughts were waiting for him in Renégauld. "Brother? Ed, are you listening to me?" the faint voice came again, the blonde's eyes heavily lidded as he continued to walk, not wanting to give into the pain or the sleep that was creeping through his body.

"I'm not deaf, Al. Trust me, I can hear you," he muttered, continuing to limp on. He felt sick, exhausted, and surprisingly full, Al having nearly stuffed a few rolls down his throat before they left Landon. The food stayed in his stomach, making him feel weighted down, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the feeling. Needless to say, he felt like shit.

Sweat trickled down his forehead in steady streams, the twelve year old actually thankful the temperature had finally started to warm up. After the last trek they made, the cold nearly killed him. At least now he wasn't shivering so badly. He peered up at the sky through his golden strands, the sun peeking out through the thick clouds every so often.

The pain in his leg had subsided for the most part, though the ache that had settled in it still refused to leave. He grimaced when he took certain steps, sporadic bursts of what could only be described as electricity shooting through his muscle and tendons. And with every wince or expression of being hurt, he knew Al witnessed all of it, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about which only pissed him off all the more.

His mind was clouded, his thoughts confused. But the road they were on he was sure of, and the ghost of a chance that continued to haunt his very being was right by his side, like a faithful shadow always should be. His mental state was one thing; his appearance, a complete other. Luckily for him, his pants were in one piece, thanks to the spare pair he was finally able to change into. Though the material still clung to his wound now and then, it was far better than the other pair that had to be discarded when they'd reached Landon. His jacket was still missing a piece at the bottom, and the dirt had been washed off as best as Alphonse could do in the sink at Dr. Hocram's office. And even though he was fully clothed, most passersby were unable to tell what was hidden underneath all of the thick material.

But it was apparent in his face. Deathly apparent.

His golden orbs appeared much larger than what they actually were, the skin around his eyes drawing back to make room for the dark bags that were now a feature on his unfortunate youthful visage. He looked worn and weary, his golden locks even taking on a dull pallor, completely opposite of the vibrant golden strands that had once graced his cherubic face. He was fading into the notion of oblivion, the quiet obsession he held for the Stone rotting his soul, bit by bit.

He wanted to drop so badly, to just lie on the forest floor and sleep for as long as he could get away with, but he knew he couldn't do that. For one, it wouldn't be comfortable, and secondly, it would only slow them down. And at the moment in his one-track mind, he couldn't afford to lose anymore time that he already had, the twelve year old not even able to remember how long it had been since they left Central. Either way, he was sure Mustang had caught on by now, a thought he wished had slipped past him.

The blonde felt a cough arise in his throat and as much as he tried to hold it back, it escaped the confines of his throat, his jaw cracking open. Acid burned the sensitive tissue in his esophagus, the small portion of food he had consumed threatening to come back up, whether he liked it or not. The force of it made him stop walking, causing Al to bump directly into the preteen and knock him straight to the ground. He landed with a faint thud, too weak to push himself back up.

"Brother!" the immediate dawn of an apology began to emanate from the steel suit, he automatically bending down to give his older brother a helping hand. "I'm so sorry—"

"Save it," Edward mumbled through grit teeth, his whole body trembling as he struggled to push himself up. Weakness flooded his nerves and muscles, making him try even harder to at least make it up into a push-up position.

"But Ed-"

"I said save it!" he shouted, the strength and anger in his voice surprising both himself and his little brother. He felt spittle fly from his parted lips, but the stubbornness that infiltrated his system forced the boy to continue his struggle, his arms shaking with each breath. Sweat fell from his face and landed on the earth's floor as he painstakingly made it up to his knees, the urge to collapse right back down again not too far behind. His breaths were ragged, his shoulders rising and falling as he tried to take in as much air as he could. His head hung, stringy strands of blonde locks falling his in face and guarding his eyes.

"You know, Ed, I used to think your stubbornness was a good quality, no matter how many times you got on my nerves. But now, I think I'm starting to change my mind. You don't have to do this, Ed!" Alphonse tried to reason, staring down at the twelve year old alchemist that was still too weak to stand on his own two feet.

"Don't forget who the older brother is here," Edward stated, mustering up enough energy to stand. His flesh leg felt like it weighed just as much as the metallic one, only making things harder. He staggered a bit, finally regaining his balance. He stood still for a moment, long enough to catch his breath, only to have Al's ire-filled voice meet his ears.

"Then start acting like it for once, Edward!" the shout came, the soul-filled eyes that held possession of the metallic suit flickering with anger. "You have to stop this!"

"Stop what?" Ed shot back, feeling more than a bit dizzy as his head shot up, looking straight into the windows of his brother's soul.

"Stop acting like—like you're obsessed!" the remark came from the younger boy, exasperation more than apparent in his tone as he threw his gauntlets in the air in a gesture of the frustration he was feeling.

The twelve year old couldn't help but let out a laugh when he heard this, the thought simply oblivious to his ears. "Obsessed? You call me wanting to find the stone so you can get your body back, _obsessed_?" the smaller boy asked, downright appalled, his brow narrowing.

"Yes! Don't you see what you're doing to yourself? Ed, you look terrible," Alphonse stated as honestly as he could. "You're—you're starting to scare me," the younger boy added, his helmet shifting downwards.

"Scare you?" the State Alchemist questioned, the bags underneath his eyes bringing out the weight of the situation even more. "You always were afraid of the littlest things," he muttered, folding his arms.

The eleven year old didn't understand why he did what he did next, the comprehending part of his soul apparently vanishing in the instant he pushed his older brother to the ground. It was as though every bit of self-control he had managed to hold onto for the past two years dissipated right before his soul-filled eyes, his gauntlets seemingly moving by themselves. He watched in near mortification as Edward was shoved back quite a few feet, landing on his side in a heap. The younger boy immediately went to help him up, his words stuttering together as he tried to say he was sorry, but was refused with a shaking hand controlled by his older brother, once again refusing help of any kind whatsoever.

"Ed, I didn't—"

Lightning flashed across the treetops, streaking through the sky at a speed neither boy could truly understand. Thunder followed it almost immediately, crackling in its wake. The heavens opened, releasing a torrent of transparent rain that pounded against the ground, actually making the older boy's skin tingle as he attempted to regain his balance once more. His black boots slipped on the wet ground, but his determination went unhinged. His head hung, just as the hair in his face did, completely shielding him from Alphonse's seemingly saddened stare.

"I told you...I'll do whatever it takes to get you your body back," he finally spoke, his head still bowed, unable to meet the pair of eyes that would be crying if it were at all possible. "And the sooner we find the answer, the better," he stated, his tone laced with a trace of the cynicism that would later become his trademark. "But I'll go through whatever I have to to make you whole again, Al. And no matter how many times I'm refused the truth, I'll keep looking if it means I'm one step closer to ending this mess that I've created. Don't forget who's idea it was in the first place."

Slowly, he raised his head, rain streaking down his sunken cheeks. The dark circles that encased his eyes were magnified tenfold as lightning brightened the darkened sky once more, the younger boy almost convinced that there were tears mixed in with the rain. But his brother's voice did not shake or falter once during speaking, therefore, making him think otherwise.

"But, Ed, I was there too, you know," the eleven year old reminded the slightly older boy, still hesitant to come anywhere near his brother. "I could've stopped you. I could've done something..."

"You couldn't have stopped me if you'd tried, Al," the twelve year old said truthfully, his voice only echoing the regret in his tone. "I was dead set on bringing her back, and that was the only thing I could think about, getting her back so you wouldn't be so sad and we wouldn't have to miss her anymore. But I did it out of selfishness. It was what I wanted."

"I wanted it too, Brother, and you know that!" Al tried once more to rectify his part of the equation, desperately trying to make the other boy see that it wasn't wholly his fault. But convincing a stubborn person wasn't exactly the easiest task to undertake.

"But you knew better, Al! You knew we shouldn't have been doing it, but I forced you to," Edward admitted, the thunderstorm beginning to lighten to a shower, but the boy paid no attention to his surroundings. He was too focused on the guilt that had snaked its way through his veins and made a home in his heart.

"Forced me to what, Ed? I made that decision on my own! I went along with with you anyway! I said yes too! Don't _you_ forget that!" the sudden pained yell came from the younger boy, his voice breaking at the last statement.

"I forced you into believing that we'd be able to get Mom back. I put the thought in your head and you _believed_ me! Don't you see, Al? This is my responsibility, and I won't rest until I make things right again!" the words tumbled out of the weary boy's mouth, tears brimming at his eyes. But he would not them fall today. He was sick of crying, sick of the continuous cycle of tears that circulated through his system.

"Brother, if you don't stop and take a good look at what you're doing, then you'll kill yourself before I ever get my body back! Is that what you want? Is it?" the boy channeled his pain through his voice, it falling on the ears of one too familiar with the feeling.

"Of course it's not," Edward immediately answered, involuntarily swaying as he spoke. "But look at you, Al, you're a heap of steel," the boy joked, signs of severe fatigue plaguing his movements and speech. "When you touch something, you can't even feel it, right?" he asked, a half-hearted smile parting his lips, his golden orbs overshadowed by a fear Alphonse couldn't quite comprehend. "It's just like a dull weight, an absolute feeling of numbness even though you know something's physically there. Right?" he questioned, faint rays of the sun now parting through the clouds and dimly skimming the top of the boy's head, pulling a tiny bit of the dullness out of his golden strands.

Al didn't want to answer the question, especially if Edward already knew the answer. And now did not exactly seem like the right time to humor the boy, who appeared to be on the verge of passing out, more than likely due to the constant physical strain he refused to stop putting on his body.

"Yes, but—"

"Exactly. And that's why, I have to feel for the both of us, Al. Don't you get it?" he queried, his head tilting to one side, the twelve year old obviously falling into a delusional state. "This," he stated, gesturing to the mechanical limbs he depended on. "This is nothing compared to what you're going through. I still have a body, I'm still made out of flesh and blood, but you're not. And I promise, I'll get you back, Al. But please don't hold me back, not like the others. They just don't want..." his voice trailed off as the sleep he so desperately needed came to drift over him, his body slowly collapsing as his words faded.

The younger boy caught him this time before he could fall to the ground, easily hoisting him up in his steel arms. Edward was right, he couldn't feel anything but a quiet numbness that had captured his soul and encased it, feeling nothing but the few emotions that were still allowed to pass through his system.

"Why do you have to be so stubborn?" Alphonse muttered, breathless sobs escaping his body of armor. "Why, Ed? I may be just a hallow suit of metal, but I can still feel sad, even helpless, and that's exactly how you're making me feel now," the air-light whisper emanated from the steel, his metal gauntlets shaking slightly. "Please don't die on me," he pleaded, moving the smaller boy to a more comfortable position(if you could call it that), onto his back, making sure he had a good grip on the smaller boy.

"Don't be stupid, Al, I'd never do that to you," he muttered sleepily, his cheek resting on the cool metal that made up the younger one's shoulder. "I won't ever leave you." And with that, he drifted back off into a sleep filled with unwanted dreams, leaving his brother to choose what path to take. A decision the younger boy did not want to be faced with, Central looking more and more like the right choice the further they continued on.

The eleven year old stood in silence for a moment, his head bowed in thought. He wanted nothing more than to feel the warmth that was emanating off his older brother's body at the moment, just to truly feel his chest rising and falling as he took a breath. If he turned back towards Central, they would have come all this way for nothing, and everything that Ed was experiencing would have been a fool's suffering. And that was the last thing Alphonse wanted. But if he continued forward, there was no telling what could happen, and even though worse things were possible, if he didn't take the chance...

_But can Ed handle it?_

The thought rattled him, he not liking the unsettling feeling that was burrowing deep within his soul. It was the same feeling he felt that day. And he saw what the affect of not doing nothing had.

_But what if things are different this time?_

The ongoing battle that waged within him was stirring again, his helmet looking back and forth between his two choices.

_What if we really are onto something this time? _

The one thing he hated most he was doing at the moment. The eleven year old loathed questioning himself, an aspect of his personality he just couldn't shake. Taking a good look at the two hands that were draped carelessly around his large metal shoulders, he made up his mind. Peering up at the sun that had managed to make a small hole in the grey clouds, he started to walk, dreams of being flesh and blood once again confiscating his ghost.

&&&&&

Three pairs of eyes watched the suit of armor make its way through the underbrush, keeping very keen observation on the eleven year old and his unconscious brother.

The shortest of the three moved forward, ready to strike, but a firm hand grabbed his shoulder in just a nick of time.

"No, Gluttony, not yet," Lust ordered quietly in his ear, her hand still planted firmly on him. "We're just supposed to be watching right now. There'll be time for that later."

"We're only going to watch them for a little while," Envy stated, dark eyes slit in anger. "I can only take watching these pathetic brats for so long. If we didn't need them, I would've killed them already. Especially the older one. Pipsqueak."

"Now, now, Envy, you're not jealous, are you?" the throaty voice came, a grin creeping over the black-haired homunculus' face.

"Jealous? Jealous?" the venom-filled words ejected from the other homunculus' mouth, its eyebrows narrowing. "I could never be jealous of those filthy little twats." A grin erased the anger that had captivated its face. "Those two don't even know what's coming."

"Come on. We'd better get moving or we'll lose him," Lust reminded them, determination set in her soulless eyes. They had their orders, now all they had to do was carry them out. If fate would permit it, that is.

**Author's note : Not as long as the last few, but hopefully just as effective. I cannot say it enough. THANK YOU all so much for your reviews and support. They mean the world to me, and only make me want to write even more. I really, truly appreciate it. So many, many THANKS goes to Zion, Mistress of Darkness, BlackHalliwell, Niver, Roy-Fan-33, hyperdude, Aemilia Rose, DarkAmber112, Akamori-chan, Legendary Chimera, Lyemi, JChrys, Hitokiri Musei, ssj2raider, ThePatheticWriter, Suiren-san, Night Fox Hiten, Harryswoman, demon thing, CrystalMind, and all of you who have been so kind to put me on one of your list of faves. Thank you all so much, and I only hope this chapter sufficed. Sorry Al lost it, but it was bound to happen, right?**

**Expect a horror one-shot to come in light of Friday the 13th, and Halloween. ; )**


	21. Crystalline Dreams

**Title : Whispers of a Nightmare**

**Genre : Anime/Manga**

**Category : Full Metal Alchemist**

**Disclaimer : Nope, this one belongs to someone else as well. **

**Summary : Takes place after the incident with Nina. Something's wrong with Ed, and Al just can't quite figure out what it is. Serious situations and angst ensue.**

**Warnings : Angst, mild language, violence, and other issues that shall go unnamed for now. I don't want to give away too much of the plot just yet, now do I? ;)**

**Rating : T **

**Chapter 21 : Crystalline Dreams**

"You know, when you said we were going to Landon, I was expecting better conditions. You are a _Lieutenant_ Colonel after all, right, Roy?" Hughes questioned sarcastically, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead, he wiping it away irritably.

"The boys aren't traveling by car, Maes, so neither are we. If we want to find them, then we have to use their methods because I can tell you now those two aren't using the main road, and even if they were, they wouldn't be driving," Mustang explained, staring straight ahead and focusing on the task at hand. "Besides, we should be arriving in town within the hour, so quit your complaining."

"I'm not complaining, but you can't tell me that you're not hot. Geez," he muttered, tugging at the collar of his undershirt. "You're lucky I only brought one change of clothes or else you'd be carrying this thing," the Major stated, gesturing towards his pack.

The other man grunted in response, taking note of the weight of his own belongings. There wasn't much, an extra set of clothes and the few necessities he needed to keep up his appearance. He was only thankful that the damned thing wasn't loaded down with paperwork, the one foe he'd have waiting for him when he returned to Central. His hardened glance drifted upwards to the sky, it taking on the colors of twilight. Between the thick, grey clouds that seemed oblivious to the notion of moving were pale violets and light blues, accompanied by the golden tones left over from the setting sun. His gaze immediately dropped down, another shade of gold entering his vision.

The weight of the pack was nothing in comparison to the disposition of guilt that was weighing down his soul. Sure, he was thankful that the two boys were alive, but the fact that he had no absolute idea as to their exact location bothered him more than anything. They could be anywhere, or _on_ their way to anywhere, which upset him even more.

But what got to him the most were those dreams. In all the years that passed since the Ishbal Rebellion, the dreams had never changed. It'd always been the same routine over and over again, and every night, he'd have to relive the horror he witnessed that day. But for some unexplained reason, the twelve year old kid was there instead. Either begging for his life, or making the older man himself cry for mercy, he had changed everything, making the man's already difficult life harder to handle.

"No matter what you think, they're okay, Roy," Maes voice came from behind him, the taller man hurrying to catch up with the Lieutenant Colonel.

The thought was kind, but nothing in Roy Mustang's life was ever that simple. This was a fact that he came to know and never forget since he was a child. Life was never an easy thing, no matter how good you were at avoiding paperwork.

&&&&&

The darkness shrouded him like the night cloaks the shadows. In this place, he was free; free to feel and do whatever he pleased. And at the current moment, letting the silent, still air flow past him and around him was all he needed. It was a hint away from being cool, though there was an undercurrent of warmth it carried along with it as well. It was beautiful. The boy could almost swear he was smiling, until the darkness quickly vanished into thin air and was replaced with a picture of a factory, its smokestacks gracing the midnight sky.

Looking down at himself, it appeared he was in his normal attire, though fresh blood stains graced his pants leg and his left side. Reaching his flesh hand down to the wound, he could feel the warm substance that was supposed to be flowing inside his body, leaking out. He panicked slightly at this, but a piercing scream that echoed through the streets that sounded a lot like Al's nearly made his heart stop.

Glancing around, he realized that he was indeed alone, no metal body of armor at his side. Something was wrong, very wrong. Immediately, words shot out of his lips faster than he could contain them.

"Al! Alphonse! Where are you?" he screamed, his tortured voice showing obvious signs of wear. The beating of his heart was almost as loud, but as the blood-curdling scream resonated once again through his ear drums, he realized he was getting nowhere—fast.

His golden orbs immediately shot to the many windows of the factory, a blue glow emanating from one of them, nearly at the top of the building. Panic snaked through his blood stream, ultimately knowing that something dangerous was going on, and it involved Al.

His brain instantly set off signals to his legs to move, though his automail apparently chose not to obey. Carrying the majority of his weight on his right leg, he pushed forward, his ability to run more than impaired.

For a split second, it was as though his entire body went into slow motion, and no matter how fast he kept telling himself to move, his muscles and nerves refused to listen. The twelve year old could hear his breath leaving his lungs faster than he could catch it, his internal organs feeling as though they were on fire.

As suddenly as the notion came, it went, sending him almost sprawling to the ground. Before his face could meet the solid concrete below, he reached out a hand, catching his balance before his visage was just as useless as his leg.

"Brother!" the eleven year old's voice cut through the thick, foggy air, scaring the wits out of his older sibling. "Brother, please! Please, stop!"

Those four words made the State Alchemist stop dead in his tracks for the moment, fear-filled thoughts racing through his mind. His eyes watered slightly at this, but at the moment, he had no time to cry. He had to get to wherever the hell his little brother was. And that task was becoming harder and harder as the seconds dragged by, his inability to find a way into the factory impairing his time.

Breath left his lungs in short, quick pants, beads of sweat already spilling down his forehead as he ran around the huge building, his brother's cries his motivation as he finally found an entrance. The door was the smallest he'd ever seen, especially for an entrance to a place like that. It stood about three feet high and was barely half that in its width. The only thought the boy had was a whisper of a plead that the thing wouldn't be locked, and much to his surprise, it wasn't, creaking open just as he was about to reach for the handle.

Shrugging off the short exchange of sudden luck, he bent down, just able to squeeze his small body through its hinges. Just as he was about to break into an all out run, he was met with a concrete wall, the force sending him straight to the ground. He recovered as quickly as he could, the air not wanting to flow through his lungs as fast as he would have liked. Clapping his hands, he pressed them against the wall, waiting for his alchemy to work. And waited. And waited. Clapping once more, he touched the wall, but no blue light came.

Tears of manic frustration brimmed at his eyes, his tired frustration getting the better of him. Without thinking, he punched the concrete, creating a decent sized crack, but nothing more. Gritting his teeth and letting any type of consequence fall past his thoughts, he punched it over and over until there was a hole, letting his heavy black boots do the rest of the work.

Ignoring the pain that was searing through his left shoulder and down through his side, he kicked out just enough of the blocking substance to get through, dust infiltrating his lungs. A coughing fit easily ravaged over him, but he let it, making his legs run faster than they were supposed to. His eyes turned to slits as he adjusted to the darkness that hovered over him, but as he made his way down the long corridor, another door awaited him, this one much larger than the first and a hell of a lot heavier.

Clenching his jaw, he pulled on its handle, it barely even budging. Closing his eyes tight, he tried once more, gaining just enough space to stick his foot in, then his arm. Feeling the tightness press against his chest as he pushed himself through, he took in a deep breath, silently praying to a God he thought not to exist. He could feel the breath being squeezed out of him as he became stuck between being one step to rescuing his little brother and being crushed to death between the door and the wall.

"Dammit!" he cursed, pushing himself a bit too hard. He didn't dare open his eyes, hearing a sickening crack come from his rib cage as he forced his small body through to the other side, landing in a heap as the heavy door slammed behind him. Too thankful to care, he got to his feet, pain electrocuting his side.

His brain told his legs to move and so they did, taking him to the center of the factory, a staircase set directly in the wide open space. His mouth edged open slightly as he saw how far it rose up, inwardly knowing it would take forever to get up them, but he had no other choice.

Clutching his side, he ran towards the towering sight, a shadow hovering above him. He ascended the staircase, clasping desperately onto its railing, gritting his teeth as the sound of more bones cracking rattled his ear drums. A pained sob escaped his lips, the boy silently cursing it as he continued to force his tired limbs up the metal object.

"Brother! Please! Why are you doing this?" Alphonse's terrified voice descended into the twelve year old's ears, only making him even more pissed that he couldn't get there sooner.

He'd made it up about thirty feet before he realized there were footsteps echoing after his. Instinct and reflex kicked in, the boy stopping abruptly and bending down, clapping his hands together and pressing them against the stairs that were underneath his feet; but nothing happened.

"What the hell is going on?" the frustrated cry escaped his lips, held back tears spilling involuntarily onto his cheeks. "Why isn't it working? I don't understand!"

"It's not working because it doesn't exist here," a voice came from below, he recognizing it instantly.

"No," the whisper conquered his breath, his grip tightening on the metal railing, fear rising up in his soul. "No," it came again, his golden eyes shimmering with unrequited horror. He backed up quickly, stumbling up the steps two at a time, though his short legs were hindering his progress. He fell, his chin hitting the edge of a step, the metal slicing the flesh right open, crimson blood decorating the stairs below him. Pain riveted up his jaw bone and through his skull, the fresh wound oozing out more blood the faster his heart pounded.

"You can't get away, Edward. You can keep running, but I'll be right behind you," a female's voice resonated through his hearing, soft lips pressing against his sensitive ears. "And there's nothing that you can do about it either," she added, a devious laugh befalling the child's ears.

Something made him turn his head and look directly at the originator of the words, dull green eyes staring back at him marked with such hate it almost made the boy wish he were dead at the moment.

"M-Mom," the word uttered from his quivering lips, his golden eyes locked on hers. No matter how hard he tried to look away, he couldn't, eerily mesmerized by the hope that some type of love would appear in them; but much to his dismay, they stayed in torture mode, haunting him with every second he was forced to look into them.

"Aw, look at my little man, so weak and pathetic! Your father would be ashamed, Edward. First you let me die, then you try to bring me back and you couldn't even do that right! Look at yourself! And your brother! How could you do that to Alphonse? _How_?" she screeched in his ears, her surprisingly sharp nails digging into his sunken cheeks.

"I-I-I don't know!" he cried out, trying his damnedest to back away but only getting pulled closer to the woman. He could feel his flesh being torn into, her nails continuing to dig into the soft flesh, or what was left of it for that matter. "Please...please..."

"Please what, Edward? Please, what?" she shouted, wrapping her hands around his throat. "Please forgive you for the terrible things you've done?" she screamed, the sight suddenly changing before him. It was replaced with another female, her emerald eyes now locked into his as well. "You don't deserve to live, alchemist," Lydia LaShea's voice penetrated his hearing, sending a new batch of chills down his spine.

"You thought you were so strong and so brave, didn't you, child? But you weren't. Not at all. Your little brother and those—those _dogs_ had to come to your rescue! The only thing you were able to prove is how weak you truly are!" the woman's shrill tone emanated through his skull, his body finally starting to shake under the pressure that was silently building in his soul. She stared at him, grey strands of decomposing hair tickling his face, making him squirm even more.

"Go away." His voice was barely audible, reduced to a tenth of its normal volume. He couldn't help but quaver under the woman's grasp, her nails now digging into his throat, blood trickling out of the small wounds she was making, quite happily at that.

"Does it hurt?" Her voice was now as low as his as she pressed her lips against his cheek, disgustingly hot breath gracing his face, nausea riling in the back of his stomach.

The boy was silent in his reply, trying as hard as he could to pry her hands away from his bloodied neck, but the harder he tried, the seemingly stronger she became. And it didn't help that his body was starting to deceive him as well. Whatever strength he did have was starting to wane, but he couldn't give up now...Al needed him.

"Al, I'm coming," the words escaped through his grit teeth, a minute amount of air barely making it into his lungs. Closing his eyes tight, he brought his knee up, wedging it between the woman and himself, and then kicked, knocking her back. He watched in dizzied horror as she fell back against the metal stairs, a loud _crack_ echoing throughout his ears. He tried to run, to get away from the sight that was awaiting him at the bottom of the stairs, but it was as though his feet were glued to the spot, his legs trembling weakly beneath him.

The groan that met his ears was almost as worse as the thing that was starting to ascend the staircase, it crawling slowly and unevenly towards him, its neck twisted at an angle that was anything but human.

The twelve year old shook his head violently, clenching his jaw so tight that a few of his teeth broke, breaking away inside of his already blood-filled mouth. "I-I'm coming, Al," he whispered, the crimson substance spilling over his lips, trailing down to his already blood covered chin. Gripping the railing, he forced his left foot to the next step, then his right, not able to see the remains of the woman that were now speedily crawling up towards him, preparing to strike once more. Inadvertently glancing back, he caught the movement out of the corner of his eye, his foot nearly slipping on the next step. "Dammit!" he cursed, taking in as much air as his lungs could hold before pushing himself forward, trying his hardest to ignore the sound that was at his feet.

"You can't get away!" she hissed, her hand brushing against his heel. "You're not strong enough, child! You're as weak as they come! Pathetic little brat!" more words came, taunting his ears with each syllable.

"Get away from me, you old hag!" Edward cried out, kicking backwards in the woman's direction, his heart nearly failing him when he heard it connect.

"Why, little big Brother? Why are you hurting me?"

He recognized that voice. Only foolish naiveté made him stop, even though he knew what truly mattered the most was waiting for him at the top of the stairs.

"Nina," he breathed, coming to a halt and turning around, terror struck across his face. "Nina," Ed repeated, just as breathlessly, his golden eyes lit with fear and pain.

She was holding onto the metal step just below the one he was on, her blue eyes gleaming up at him, tears riveting down her cherubic cheeks. Blood littered her small body from head to toe, even her brown hair was covered in it, strands of chocolate locks slicked with the crimson substance. And as the boy took it all in, he saw where it was coming from. She was sliced open from the back of her neck straight down to her tail bone, flesh hanging limply from the gaping wound.

"Help me!" she pleaded in the most innocent corrupted tone the twelve year old had ever heard, his soul starting to crack in two at his unwillingness to help her. He couldn't even lift a hand, all he could do was stare as she looked up at him, her face as pale as the moonlight that was casting its rays down outside. "Pwease, Edword, pwease! Help me! It hurts!"

"I-I'm sorry, Nina." His voice was barely above a whisper as he turned, closing his eyes tight, too embarrassed to let the figment of his own imagination see him cry. "But I've got to save, Al. I'm sorry." And with that, he took off up the stairway, hearing every torturous scream and cry that emanated from the little girl's lips, adding another notch to his self-inflicted punishment bar.

He made it to the top, only to find a hallway decorated with pictures, and the further along he went, the worse the images got. Visions of the day his mother died swam past him as he tried to block it all out but was unable to, his golden orbs being forced to look at the worst times of his life. Images of the failed transmutation circled around his head, his brother's body there one minute and gone in the next picture verifying the failure that had been his constant ghost ever since that day.

Pictures of the monster the two boys had created floated past him, its harrowing eyes staring straight into his, even the noises that it made deafened his hearing. He wanted to scream and shout so badly, but he knew it would all be fruitless in the end. No matter what he did, they wouldn't go away, and the only thing he could do was run faster, hoping he could get to his little brother before it was too late.

As he drew closer to the door that awaited him at the very end of the hall, one last picture was cast on his eyesight. The four faces that it were comprised of were all too familiar, his being one of them. He gazed at it, saddened by how beautiful yet melancholy it seemed. There were the faces of a family that no longer existed, it having been shattered ages ago; yet somewhere deep inside the child, he wished that it could have, and they all could have been happy. But that wasn't the life he was intended to live, which only made the sight of the picture dig deeper into his soul and consume him.

He forced his golden orbs to look straight, and as they did, they were met with the sight of yet another door, only this one was made of glass, giving him entry only with his eyes. Edward ran to it, grabbing desperately for a knob that wasn't there. Horrified, he glanced down, knowing his little brother was in there suffering, but as he looked up, what met his pupils was a scene of despair.

Alphonse lay in the center of the room, in the middle of one of the most complicated arrays the boy had ever lay eyes on. The eleven year old was encased in it, seemingly held down by an invisible force. He was screaming and shouting and pleading, but who he was pleading to, was Edward.

The twelve year old gaped in sheer terror as he watched himself circle the younger boy, laughing and talking about how he had "finally figured it out" and that "it was so simple." He could hear Alphonse continuing to scream, begging for his life, but the other Edward wouldn't hear it, still ranting and raving and talking about how "it will all be over soon."

"Al! Al! I'm right here, Al!" Edward screamed, pounding on the glass door that apparently couldn't be broken. "Alphonse! It's me, Ed! Al!" he cried out, his fists banging repeatedly on the transparent door. He tried hitting it harder, but still nothing happened. He couldn't even put a crack in it. Tears coasted down his cheeks, making crystalline trails through the blood that coated the boy's face. Not giving up, he continued to hit the glass, his flesh hand becoming a bloody mess, his skin being the only thing that was cracking at the moment.

"Close your eyes, dear, Brother. It's almost over," he heard himself say through the window of horror. And before he knew it, the transmutation array was lit with blue light once more, and the only thing that encompassed his being was the sound of his little brother screaming his name; then there was silence. Complete, and devastating silence.

The twelve year old opened his eyes slowly, only to see his younger brother gone, and himself restored, left arm and right leg flesh once more. He peered through the glass, tears still conquering his worn visage. The other Edward stood up slowly, admiring his new limbs with a grin that could only be described as sadistic, which chilled the still automail-armed Edward right to the bone. He could hear himself mumbling "no" over and over again, and apparently the other boy could too.

The glass door suddenly broke into thousands of tiny particles, flying this way and that, the sound bursting into the young boy's ears. He immediately recoiled, though he could still feel his flesh being torn by the shards that were flying at him a mile a minute. Edward fell to his knees, shielding himself as best he could, but the damage had already been done.

Crunching glass met his ears, curiosity making his golden orbs open. He fell back as he saw the other boy standing in front of him, grin still planted firmly in place, both of his hands reaching out for the real Edward's neck.

"Get away from me!" Ed shouted, though it sounded more like a hoarse whisper, his voice deceiving him. He pushed away, ignoring the pieces of glass that were now tearing open his hand and leg.

The other Edward looked down at him, his grin widening, his arms still outstretched. "Don't you see what you could have had?" the imitation asked, its golden eyes brimming with hate.

"I would rather stay like this for the rest of my life than do that to my little brother! You're sick, you bastard!" the twelve year old cried out, his voice becoming almost nonexistent, still trying desperately to back away.

"You fool, you just don't realize. It really is simple. Just use your little brother as material to get back what you've lost...I don't know why it took _me_ so long..."

"Shut up! Just shut the hell up!" the words exploded from the child's mouth. He frantically pushed himself to his feet, staggering a bit as he tried to catch his balance, still not believing the sights his eyes had been forced to see. "I've got to get him back...I've got to...Al...," he muttered, his golden eyes dancing with manic terror.

The other Edward watched intently as the twelve year old continued to back up, his feet almost at the edge of the steps. He smiled, his grin wicked with deviousness. "Just a little more," he murmured, making sure to catch the other boy's hearing.

"What?" Ed blinked, glancing back, and just as he did, two hands pushed against his chest, sending him down the spiral he had worked so hard to climb up. He awoke just before his head met the metal stairs.

&&&&&

"This must be the place," Hughes announced thankfully, running a hand through his hair.

"According to this, the nearest inn should be approximately half a kilometer east," First Lieutenant Hawkeye stated, raising her gaze from the map. Her cinnamon colored eyes barely caught the Lieutenant Colonel's staring at her, but it was quickly avoided as he followed her directions, heading towards the mark on the map. "Sir?" she asked, as he made a sudden turn, soon realizing what his first destination truly was.

"I'll be right back!" Hughes called out, running for a phone booth. "Gracia's been waiting for my phone call all afternoon!" he added before disappearing into one of the small cubicles.

Shaking her head, she returned to following in the Lieutenant Colonel's footsteps, they leading to the doctor's office that was printed in the newspaper. Quietly, she made her way to her usual place, by his side.

"What in the world would those two be doing here?" he muttered, staring at the dim and dreary looking office, blocked off by police tape.

"I think you already know the answer to that question, sir," she replied, her eyes coming across the large **CLOSED** sign that hung on the door, obviously for good.

"Possibly," he muttered, his brow narrowing. "But one can only wonder what's actually going through their minds. They may be young, but they're way of thinking isn't." He paused, his reflection staring back at him from the darkened windows. "Not all the time anyway," he added with a slight smirk, hardly noticeable among the hardened gaze that graced his visage.

"They can't be too far away." She wanted to believe the words she had just said, but for some reason, it almost seemed foolish to think that way. But with the way the Lieutenant Colonel was acting, any form of positivity couldn't hurt, or apparently help for that matter.

"If Edward is injured, Alphonse won't stop until he comes across..." He let his words trail away, feeling like an idiot for finally realizing what the two boys had come to Landon for. "They must have found something out, a reason for them to change direction." Ignoring the yellow tape, he tried the door, his instinct on spot. It opened easily, the police as unintelligent as he had suspected they were.

"Sir? What are you doing?" Hawkeye questioned cautiously, casting a nervous glance towards the man who had obviously lost his mind.

"What's it look like I'm doing?" he answered casually, politely making his way inside the closed building.

"But, sir, isn't that illegal?" the blond asked, hesitantly following him in, careful to watch their backs, as was her normal fashion. Her hand immediately positioned itself on her gun, knowing how important it was to never let her guard down, this being one of those times.

"The last time I checked, the military had a little more power than any local police department that I know of," came the sarcastic reply, the First Lieutenant immediately regretting the curious question. She should have known.

"What exactly are you looking for, sir?" the inquiry parted her lips, hand still planted firmly on the weapon.

"The boys obvious found something in here that will lead them closer to the Philosopher's Stone. I just hope that whatever it is, they didn't take it with them," Mustang replied, entering the Doctor's main office. His onyx eyes instantly fell on the man's desk, blood still splattered across it. Now, where most people would have recoiled when stumbling upon such a sight, Mustang ignored the now rust colored substance and headed immediately for the deceased's file cabinets, inwardly hoping there would be something locked away intended for the Doctor's eyes only.

Riza kept a watchful eye on the man before searching herself, her cinnamon colored eyes landing on the bloody papers that blanketed the man's desk. Reluctantly, she leaned forward, the sound of the Lieutenant Colonel picking the lock in the background of her mind. Her brow narrowed, curiosity getting the better of her. Carefully, she picked up the newspaper clippings, taking note that they were at least twenty years old.

"Sir, perhaps you should take a look at this," Hawkeye suggested, handing over the clippings, making sure not to touch the crimson spots. "I think it might give us a clue as to where the boys are headed."

The Lieutenant Colonel took it, his onyx eyes scanning the headline.

_**Doctor Found Dead Under Mysterious Circumstances**_

"History truly does repeat itself," he quipped, raising a slightly amused brow.

_A Doctor traveling through the neighboring town of Kiase was apparently found murdered in the home of one of his supposed patients. The house belonged to that of Lydia and Damien LaShea, though neither of the two were present at the time the body was found._

_The victim was found by his assistant, one Timothy Hocram. The victim's throat had been slashed; reports state he also suffered from various other wounds on his body._

_Though there have been contesting reports, one eyewitness claims the victim had various alchemic arrays carved onto his body, making the death and its reason even more suspicious. Local police have not yet issued a statement either confirming or denying the claim. _

_Doctor Raine Pierson left behind a wife and two children. Funeral arrangements have not yet been made, but are expected to take place in the victim's hometown of Renégauld within the coming week. The investigation is still undergoing. _

"Isn't that interesting," the Lieutenant Colonel murmured sarcastically under his breath.

"Have you heard of this other Doctor before, sir?" Riza questioned, staring down at the black and white-inked page.

"Can't say that I have. It's possible, but I highly doubt it. Then again...," his voice trailed off, his brow narrowing. "We'll leave first thing in the morning. As much as I'd like to, I know better than to try our luck at night. And I'm sure those two wouldn't either." Tucking the clippings into his pocket, he turned, making his way to the door, but before his hand could reach the knob, it opened before him.

&&&&&

"Al!" Edward woke with a start, his golden orbs wide with fright. Before he could say another word, an unidentified object was stuffed in his mouth, making his eyes bulge even wider. A muffled, "Hey," came out of his mouth before he even though about removing whatever it was that was still in there. With a narrowed brow, he removed the object with slightly shaking hands, taking note that it was now a saliva covered sweet roll. "What was that for? Hey, where are we?" he muttered, glancing around the quiet room.

"We're at an inn in Rawling," Al explained, his voice oddly serious. Before Edward could respond, the sweet roll he'd taken out of his mouth was replaced with another, pissing the kid off before he even had enough time to think about it.

"Stop that! Geez, Al," the twelve year old mumbled, sitting up in the bed, the blankets slowly rolling off of him to reveal a partially clad alchemist, black under shirt with blue boxers. "Give me a minute to at least wake up! I've still got sleep in my eyes!" he huffed, rubbing the substance from his orbs with his fists.

"You need to eat," Alphonse murmured, in a sitting position on a chair by the older boy's bed. He was sitting up straight, his soul-filled eyes dazedly cast on his older brother, though his mind was another world away, worries bounding through his shell.

"I will, if you'd just give me a minute," the other boy muttered, stretching. "Ow!" he yelped, pain immediately shooting through his leg the moment he moved it. He glanced down at it, feelings of guilt overwhelming him as he saw the fresh bandage that was wrapped around it. "And here I was supposed to be the one looking after you." His tone was wistful, yet rueful, a glaze falling over his eyes. He played with the top blanket for a moment, twirling the woolen material in his flesh fingertips before glancing up at the seemingly stoic expression that marked his brother's metallic face. Even if the metal couldn't reveal his little brother's true feelings, they were so strong that they practically emanated off the steel, only making the older boy feel worse.

"You do look after me, Brother. I'm still here, aren't I?" The eleven year old's tone struck a chord within the other boy, and even though Alphonse more than likely meant well by the comment, it only made Ed think just how much his little brother missed his real body. Would the younger boy have been better off leaving this plane completely, disappearing altogether instead of returning as he was, as a steel, expressionless body of armor? The question now haunted the State Alchemist's mind almost every waking minute, torment getting the better of him.

"Yeah," Edward replied, his voice distant. Absentmindedly, he picked at the two rolls, tearing them into almost inedible pieces, laying them out in front of him. The silence that came from his little brother only made the ability to eat them seem even more trying. Carefully, he picked a piece up, slipping it through his lips and onto his tongue, inwardly knowing that it was supposed to taste good and should be devoured like anything delicious should; but just seeing that longing look in the eyes that were watching him made the boy want to toss the things out the window and forget his greedy hands had ever touched them.

"What are you so afraid of?" the question tumbled out of the suit of armor, the metallic substance clanking slightly as Al turned his head to stare at his older brother, the other boy picking at the remains of the sweet rolls as if they were dead bugs or something of the like.

"What?" Ed asked, immediately looking up, blonde bangs sweeping across his face, gracing the tip of his nose. Al never witnessed the boy appearing so innocent before, except for perhaps, when he was sleeping. That was when the older boy looked the most innocent and vulnerable, which only made the younger boy even more remorseful, knowing it was his fault that the twelve year old was in pain most of the time, physically and mentally.

"What are you so afraid of, Brother? Are your dreams really that bad?" he asked, his voice shaking slightly. He continued to stare at the older boy, afraid of what was going to befall his hearing.

"What are you talking about, Al?" the nonchalant tone forced its way out of Edward's lips, a playful smile sliding across his visage. It was far too late. The younger sibling could see right through the transparent happiness that the older boy tried so desperately to perfect.

Alphonse stood without saying another word. Metal clanked miserably through the space between them as the eleven year old made his way to the only window in the room, his heavy gauntlets laying slack at his sides. Slowly, they started to clench, signs of anger starting to resurface.

"Al?" Ed questioned softly, worry painting his now downcast face. He stopped playing with the food, the way his brother was acting scaring him. "You okay?" he added, pushing the blankets off him as he dared stand to his feet. The action was cut short as a shout erupted through the room, stopping him with one foot on the floor.

"Why can't you just tell me the truth?" Alphonse exploded, turning to face the suddenly surprised State Alchemist, the twelve year old's eyes wide with confusion and fear.

"Al, what are you—" His easily predictable question was cut off by another cry, this one more fierce than the first.

"Why do you pretend that you're always alright? That everything's okay when you and I both know it's not?" He paused, his normally reserved voice rising more decibels than Ed could count. "Just because I'm younger than you doesn't mean a thing, and you know it, Brother! You don't always have to act so strong! Or so—so invincible! You're not a god! And you're not perfect! So why do you do it? Why can't you just be honest with me and tell me the truth?"

The older boy was momentarily speechless, taken aback by the sudden onslaught of words from his younger brother. The room resonated with silence, the sound of his heart beating blocking almost everything else out. He was frozen, like a dear caught in headlights.

"I-I don't know, Al," he finally muttered, his hurt gaze meeting the floor. "I guess I just don't want you to worry," Ed answered, knowing it was a half-ass excuse. There would be no reasoning with the grown-up eleven year old today.

"Well, of course I'm going to worry, Ed!" he shouted immediately following the blonde's reply. "Every time you try to hide something from me, that gives me even more reason to worry! And I know when you're hiding something, Brother. No matter how much you think you're doing a good job of keeping something from me, I know," he stated, staring straight away at his older brother, growing even more upset when he realized the older boy couldn't even make eye contact with him. "And look at me when I'm talking to you!" he added, frustration aplenty in his tone, his gauntlets flailing exasperatedly through the air.

Edward jumped at the comment, his head jerking up at the order. Invisible tears danced in his eyes, he trying hard to choke back the lump that had settled in his throat. He clenched his jaw, the action visible through his hallowed out cheeks, making the anger level rise even more in the younger boy(if that were at all possible).

"Yeah, you're right, Al. I'm sorry," the unexpected apology came, seemingly frustrating the younger boy once more.

"So, that's it? That's it, Ed?" he questioned heatedly, folding his steel arms across his chest plate. "You're just agreeing with me so I'll shut up, aren't you?" the younger boy asked, stepping forward, the floorboards creaking underneath his weight.

"No, Al, that's not it," the twelve year old tried to justify, knowing he was going down a dead end road. "It's just—you're right. I shouldn't treat you like that. But if you were me, you'd understand why," he stated, golden locks still hanging gracefully in his face.

"Why don't you explain it to me then, Brother? Because if there was something wrong with me, you'd be the first to know." The eleven year old's tone was firm but honest, Ed-like stubbornness radiating off of him.

"And I appreciate that, Al, but you've got to understand, I'm your older brother. I-I promised I would take care of you..." His voice wavered slightly, biting his bottom lip to keep it from quivering. "I promised Mom I wouldn't let anything happen to you...And look at you now."

"When are you going to get it through your thick skull that it was _both_ of us—not just you, and not just me, but _both_ of our faults, Ed? I wanted her back too, and even though I had the feeling that something bad was going to happen, _I_ still went along with it. _You_ didn't force me to." He stood directly in front of the small State Alchemist, obviously not even giving the thought of backing down a second chance. He wanted this settled and he wanted it settled now.

"But it was my idea in the first place," the other boy replied, his voice hanging on the edge of a whisper. The moment the tear spilled over and ran down his cheek, he wiped it away with the back of his hand, his eyes narrowing at his weakness. Why couldn't he be stronger? _Why_? He didn't want to cry anymore, but just thinking about all the things he had done wrong and all the people he had let down made him feel even worse, the ability to control his tear ducks faltering.

The room fell silent for a moment, the soul-filled eyes that haunted the armored shell echoing the boy's sadness and anger. His superficial gaze left his older brother, drifting to the hard wood floor. "You know, Brother, I almost turned back to Central," the words left the metallic body, immediately drawing the attention of the twelve year old.

"Al, you're making too big a deal out of such a little thing. I'm fine. I might be a little banged up, but nothing that's going to prevent me from searching for the Stone," Edward stated as defiantly as he could, trying to appear more well than he was, but Al didn't even need to look at him to know he was lying this time.

"Am I, Ed?" the trembling voice emanated from the younger boy, his helmet slowly turning to face his older brother once more. "The last time I checked, you losing your other leg wasn't apart of the plan." He stood up straighter, trying to fight the emotion that was taking control of his tone.

The State Alchemist scoffed at the last remark, shrugging off the comment as though it were nothing. "Oh, come on, Al! My leg wasn't nearly that bad! It was just a scratch!" He tried to laugh it off, but the task was fruitless, the pain evident in his false showcase of laughter.

"That wound was not just a scratch, Edward! Dr. Hocram told me that if I would have gotten you there any later, you could've lost it!" Alphonse shouted, his stance stiffening.

Inwardly, the older boy recoiled at the thought, knowing his little brother was ultimately telling the truth, regardless of whether he wanted to hear it or not. "Well, I'm fine now so quit worrying about it!" Ed shot back, taking a minute to realize his words were a mistake. He stood to his feet, acting as though the pain that was searing through his leg wasn't there, but his face told a different story.

"I can't!" the younger boy retaliated, stepping up to the smaller boy, his soul-filled eyes flickering with emotion his metal body couldn't show. "Just because Mom died doesn't mean you had to stop caring about yourself, Brother!"

"That was two years ago, Al," the twelve year old stated in a deathly low tone, his voice deepening slightly as he spoke through a clenched jaw. His brow narrowed, golden strands of his fine hair getting in his eyes.

"And nothing's changed, has it?" Alphonse questioned, not letting their eye contact be broken. He held his ground, prepared to do whatever it took to knock some sense into his older brother.

Edward opened his mouth slightly, hesitating at his next words. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, hurt laced in his tone. His golden orbs glimmered with defeated resilience, a pained expression making its way to his pale visage.

"Nothing," Al mumbled, backing away, guilt snaking its way around his soul. As soon as his gauntlet touched the doorknob, Ed's voice met his hearing.

"Where are you going?" the twelve year old demanded, doing his best to hide the limp that confiscated his right leg as he made his way over to his little brother.

"I'm going to get you something to eat," he replied, his voice low in volume. He opened the door, the suit of armor instantly tensing as he felt a hand wrap around his metallic wrist. "Don't, Ed," he mumbled, his gauntlet balling into an involuntary fist.

"It's the middle of the night, Al. I can get something to eat in the morning," Edward surprisingly tried to reason, tugging slightly on the large metal shell. "Nothing's probably open anyway," he added, hoping his little brother would listen to him.

"Brother, out of the entire time we've been gone from Central, I've had to carry you almost everywhere. Do you know why?" It was a trick question, of course, at least to Edward it was. "Because you were too weak to walk on your own. That's why," he answered his own question, knowing Ed wouldn't have dared to, more than likely out of embarrassment. Slowly, he felt the grip loosen, the older boy's face falling downcast once more. "I'll be back in a little while," he stated, inwardly feeling bad as he stepped out of the room and into the hallway, closing the door behind him. He couldn't bare to see that look on his older brother's face again. Not tonight anyway.

**Author's note : I am so, so sorry that it took me over two weeks to update. I've been working like crazy, so I had no time to do anything. Plus, I was out of town for a little while and will be again for the next three days. I only hope it doesn't take me as long to update next time around. **

**THANK YOU all so much for your kind and supportive reviews. I appreciate each and every single one of them, and I can't express enough how truly grateful I am for them. So many, many THANKS goes to Aemilia Rose, ssj2raider, Akamori-chan, Annabele Lee, Roy-Fan-33, Me and My God Complex, JChrys, Legendary Chimera, ThePatheticWriter, marufu-chan, Mistress of Darkness, Hitokiri Musei, Weavers, hyperdude, Harryswoman, Shattered Mirror01, CrystalMind, queenstrudel, iceprincess421, DarkAmber112, and EVERY single one of you who has me on a list. I am extremely thankful, everyone. **

**Hope to hear from each of you! **

**P.s. The title of the chapter was actually going to be the title of the story, but then something made me change my mind. Okay, I'm done. ; )**

**No, wait, no I'm not. I tried to do Nina's dialog as best I could, and spelling everything the way I did was the only way I could portray her four year old voice. Now I'm done. XD**


	22. The Magnificent Truth of Deception

**Title : Whispers of a Nightmare**

**Genre : Anime/Manga**

**Category : Full Metal Alchemist**

**Disclaimer : Nope, this one belongs to someone else as well. **

**Summary : Takes place after the incident with Nina. Something's wrong with Ed, and Al just can't quite figure out what it is. Serious situations and angst ensue.**

**Warnings : Angst, mild language, violence, and other issues that shall go unnamed for now. I don't want to give away too much of the plot just yet, now do I? ;)**

**Rating : T **

**Chapter 22 : The Magnificent Truth of Deception**

"The next time you need to make a phone call, can it wait until after we've gotten a room?" the question came through tightly grit teeth, the man whom they belonged to still on the verge of snapping his gloved fingers. His narrowed brow was still set in semi-fury, obviously not amused by Hughes entrance in the doctor's office. And it didn't help matters much that the man came bursting in like a maniac gushing about how "she almost took her first step today, Roy!," and that they had to get back before she actually did.

Now the two men were on the way to the local tavern, the Lt. Colonel in need of something to calm his nerves that had been on overdrive ever since he left Central.

"Sorry, Roy, but you'd understand if you had one," Hughes murmured, folding his arms. "Alright, now that you've calmed down and that vein's finally stopped throbbing in your forehead," he began, his voice taking on a serious tone, though the expression radiating off his face was anything but. "What did you find out?" he asked, opening the door to the bar, the smell of stale cigarettes and ale easing through his nostrils.

"They're headed to Renégauld. One can only assume why," Mustang stated flatly as he took a seat at the bar, handing over the slightly charred newspaper clippings. He immediately placed an order, not caring about the possible hangover that would be once again waiting for him in the morning. He'd get over it.

Hughes scanned the black and white pages, shaking his head as he came to the last one. "That's...just plain disturbing. So, what, do they think this doctor left something behind there? That's quite a long shot, isn't it?" the hazel eyed man inquired, taking a sip of his drink.

"A long shot's all those boys need. They don't care, even it is just a minute chance of something, they'll go no matter what," the Lt. Colonel answered, staring down into the brown liquid that was now nearing the bottom of the glass. He watched as one of the ice cubes shifted, the alcohol politely bubbling in response.

"Something's nagging me about the name of that town. I can't quite recall what, but I remember hearing something about it right before the War." The Major took another sip, letting the substance cool his throat, even if it did burn slightly as it went down.

"I don't remember hearing anything about it," Mustang stated, his brow declining as he sat up straight, going through the years of information that was stored in his morally bankrupt brain. "All I recall is that it was a quiet mining town with a fairly small population. I don't even know if we have any officers stationed there or not."

"I could be mistaking it for somewhere else, but I'm pretty sure that's the one. There was type of accident there or something. But that was years ago..." Hughes shrugged it off, taking another drink from the barkeep. "I just wish those two wouldn't have done this. I understand that they want to fix something, but they're just kids. But then again, I guess they haven't learned the true definition of patience yet."

"Apparently not," the onyx eyed man agreed, drinking down the last bit of alcohol. He scooted the glass forward, silently asking for more. "What did Edward say to you that night before he and Alphonse left?" the inquiry seemingly came from out of nowhere, a dazed expression gracing his onyx colored eyes.

Maes almost choked on the transparent substance, wiping a bit of it from his lips. "And what brought that up?" the dark-haired man questioned, setting his glass down on the bar, trying not to cough up the last bit of liquid that was still trapped in his throat. He attempted to clear it, but with little avail.

"I need to know what you said to him," the black haired man repeated, clenching the full glass that sat in front of him, fighting the shaking urge that was searing through his hands. "I just want to know what made him think he could run off like this." Now the shaking was threatening his vocal chords, pissing him off nonetheless.

"Well, I didn't tell him to disobey your orders and run away if that's what you're asking," Maes deadpanned, an eyebrow arching as he downed what was left of the alcoholic beverage. "Besides, I wasn't the last one _to_ talk to him that night, if I recall correctly. What exactly did _you_ say to him? Or did you forget?"

Mustang was silent as he went over their conversation in his head, recollecting that it wasn't exactly as pleasant as he first thought. "So you're saying this is my fault, right?" he asked, the liquor apparently already having some sort of effect on his nerves. The glazed look was just starting to settle in his eyes, a warning sign to the slightly but not thoroughly intoxicated Maes that possibly it was time to get going.

"No, but I honestly don't think what we said had any thing to do with him leaving. He'd already made up his mind beforehand. Even if that whole little _you're staying put until you work out your issues_ thing did possibly set him off," he muttered, standing to his feet. The look he earned from the Lt. Colonel could only have been described as a deathly one, making the Major want to seek comfort in the room that was waiting for him back at the inn. But before he could make another move, the door to the tavern opened, an authoritative looking Hawkeye making an entrance.

"Sir, I believe there may be a problem concerning our next relocation," she stated, coming to stand in between the two slightly inebriated men. A trace of concern laced with worry taunted her eyes, but she stood firm, practically at attention.

The glazed look immediately left its owner's eyes, he standing up as well, not liking the woman's tone in the least. "We'll talk about this outside," the onyx-eyed man ordered, heading for the door. Trying desperately to tame the alcohol that was flowing through his bloodstream, he welcomed the outside air, thankful for the cool gust of wind that graced his face as he stepped out of the bar.

"Sir," Hawkeye began, taking glances between the two men that stood at her sides. "I was calling ahead, to make reservations at the inn there, just in case they were needed. I attempted this approximately three times, but only received a busy signal. I then proceeded to call HQ to find out whether or not there was a problem with the phone lines in Renégauld. The dispatcher I talked to...told me some disturbing news. Apparently there was an accident there six years ago that claimed the lives of the townspeople. Some sort of toxic gas leaked from the mines and throughout the entire town, killing all those who inhaled it." She paused, taking in a deep breath, afraid of the words that were about to leave her lips.

"Go on, Lieutenant," Mustang prodded, the makings of a headache traveling through his temples seemingly at the speed of light. Dread pooled in the pit of his stomach, feeling that somehow things were about to get even worse.

"Officers were sent in after a distress call was made, but since they had no idea of what they were heading into, none of them were prepared for what they were about to face. The soldiers that were sent in perished as well, the gas still being toxic. And according to the dispatcher, the town was then closed off, Fuhrer's orders. And with the threat of war impending, the whole ordeal was then forgotten about. None of the bodies were ever...properly disposed of, sir," she ended, forcing the lump that was in her throat back down into her chest.

"Meaning that the whole damn place is a literal ghost town," the thought parted Hughes lips, his hazel eyes gleaming with a fear that had been locked down ages ago.

"We can't risk them getting there before us. Let's get going," Mustang gave the command, leading the way back to the inn. For the first time in six years, he was afraid; and for the first time in his life, an absentminded, silent prayer left his lips. Only tonight, the nightmare would apparently be real.

&&&&&

The streets were lonely, not a soul in sight, except for the one that was encased in a metallic shell. The hallow suit of armor drifted past the street lamps, casting a fairly large shadow over the concrete in front of him, only making the feeling of loneliness multiply tenfold. The sound of his metal body clanking filled his ears, a part of him still not used to the sounds it made. He missed being able to tiptoe and be light on his feet, scaring the wits out of his older brother when the time arose. The only reason he could still get away with it now was because the older boy was a bit of a heavy sleeper, other than that, no chance.

His steel helmet seemed to hang tonight, even if it wasn't physically possible. A hopeless feeling of woe wrapped around him, apparent in his slow, steady steps. One could say that the eleven year old was depressed, but that wasn't exactly the case. Worried and scared half to death would probably be more appropriate.

Nearly every movement, every step had to be taken with care, the sight of his brother on his back becoming more and more common. But at the current moment, the spot was vacant; empty. He almost missed it—almost.

Seeing Ed like that was like watching the last days they spent with their mother. He hated seeing her like that, they both did. The woman that the two boys had known to be strong and vibrant had wasted away into almost nothing, the life in her eyes fading slowly but surely, day by day.

The memories were still fresh, even if they were slightly blurred; but the pain—the pain that they brought hurt worse than anything Alphonse could remember, making him silently wish that perhaps he could've forgotten them, just to be able to remember her being alive instead of dead.

He wanted to cry, to let go of all the feelings and emotions that swam around him but were just out of reach, but he couldn't. They were trapped inside that empty shell, just as his soul was, bound forever and a day to the steel until other means of life could be found, preferably his old body. But the way things were looking, he wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to see that happen.

It seemed that the farther they went, the harder they worked, it all just fell apart, leaving behind more gaping holes and questions. Was there really a Philosopher's Stone? This question in particular haunted him more than the rest. He didn't want to speak any more of it to Edward, knowing the older boy was dead set on getting the eleven year old back to normal and wouldn't hear anything discerning the thought. But what if there wasn't? What if he was stuck like that for the rest of his life?

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a tiny voice, breaking through the steel material that made up his current state of being. He looked up, a small child coming into view.

"'Scuse me, sir, but I'm looking for my little brother. Have you seen him?" the young boy asked, staring up with innocent blue eyes, dirty blonde hair making it to just past his ears. From the looks of it, he had just gotten out of bed, still in his pajamas.

Alphonse stared at the boy for a moment before answering, clearly confused as to why a child the boy's age would be out at such a late hour. Humoring himself, he bent down to get as close to eye level with the kid as he could, his armor clanking miserably below him as he moved.

"Are you sure your little brother's even out here? It's awfully late," the kind tone emanated through the suit of armor, his soul-filled eyes flickering.

"Oh, no, 'm positive. He always sneaks out late 'cause he's afraid," the child answered honestly, his bright blue eyes tracing the much larger suit of armor, the eleven year old now realizing the boy was clinging to a teddy bear, obviously his brother's.

"What's he afraid of?" Al inquired curiously, fear slowly leaking through his metal hinges and seeping into his soul.

The boy immediately hung his head, reluctance confiscating his speech. "He's-he's afraid of--"

"Jonathan! Jonathan!" a woman's terrified voice rang through the night air. "Oh my God, there you are!" she said breathless, running over to the two boys, her eyes widening at the sight of Alphonse. "I am so sorry, sir. He does this almost every night. I'm sorry for him troubling you," the brunette continued, her sapphire eyes filled with tears.

"Oh, it's alright, ma'am, but he said he was looking for his little brother...," Al's voice trailed off, extremely confused.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, she slowly looked up into the armor's soul-filled ones, a saddened smile forcing up the corners of her lips. "His little brother passed away a few months ago," she stated with a shaky voice. "Sometimes, he remembers...other times, he forgets. They were together when it happened," her voice dropped down to a whisper, tears threatening her vision once more.

Alphonse bowed quickly, feeling strangely guilty and out of place at the same time. "I am so sorry, ma'am. I-I didn't know." His voice dropped as well, his eyes falling to the ground as he watched her turn to walk away. "Um, it's awfully late. Why don't I walk you back home?" he offered, glancing up at the young woman.

She stopped short, looking back at him. "That would be nice. Thank you," she replied, a trace of a genuine smile crossing her lips. "What do you say to the nice man, Jonathan?" she prodded the little boy, he slowly looking back up at Alphonse as they started to walk.

"Is that cold?" the blue-eyed child inquired, staring at the metal as it glinted gracefully in the pale moonlight that had just started to break through a batch of thick clouds.

Al couldn't help but laugh at the boy's question, a chuckle emanating off the metallic suit. "Yeah, it is, but it protects me, so that's all that really matters," he answered, glancing down at the child. "Um, ma'am—"

"Please, call me, Marilyn," she interjected politely, her blue eyes twinkling in the afterglow of the lamps' light.

"Right, Marilyn," he repeated, albeit a tad sheepishly. "I don't want to upset you, but may I ask, how it happened?" Al queried somberly, feeling sorry for the young woman. He could tell she couldn't have been past twenty-five, if that, though her eyes would have led him to believe different.

She pushed a strand of loose hair out of her face before answering, holding her composure as best she could. "Both of them used to sneak out, I guess to look at the stars. It was something they did when their father was around..." Her voice trailed off for a moment, a wistful look glimmering through her eyes. "Anyway, they somehow managed to get down to the lake. We-We found them the next morning, Jonathan was alive but barely breathing; Edward however..."

The armor stopped clanking for a moment, Alphonse stopping dead in his tracks, frozen.

"Is there something wrong?" the young woman asked, stopping as well, staring up into the soul-filled orbs.

"Um, Ed—that's my older brother's name," he answered despondently, trying his best to shake it off. "Sorry about that," he added, absentmindedly scratching the back of his helmet in embarrassment.

"There's nothing to be sorry for...I-I didn't catch your name," the woman thought out loud, wrapping her night robe around her tighter.

"Oh, it's Alphonse. Alphonse Elric," he replied, glancing back down at her, suddenly feeling very empty with a touch of remorse. Maybe he shouldn't have been so loud with Ed, but then again...

_He deserved it, and you know it. He's too stubborn for his own good, and if you're not careful, he'll take advantage of your niceness, just like before..._

"This is it," she said quietly, her hands resting on the now sleepy-looking child's narrow shoulders. "Thank you very much, Alphonse." She paused, looking away for a moment. "Would you like to come in? I've got tea or coffee..."

"That's very nice of you, but unfortunately, I've got to get back to the inn. My brother's waiting for me, and I'm guessing he's probably about ready to leave." A sudden surge of discomfiture flooded through his system, he forcing himself to look at her once again. "It was very nice meeting you, Marilyn. And you too, Jonathan," he added, glancing down at the little boy. With a wave, he turned around, images of his mother and brother coming to mind, praying that he could save the remaining one.

&&&&&

He was cold, and yet very aware of the fact, but for some reason, didn't care. He could hear the wind howling through the open window, blowing what was supposed to be a gentle breeze across his skin, though it was hardly anything but. It carried a chill within it that was meant for him and him alone, goosebumps spreading like wildfire across his pale skin.

His golden orbs slowly drifted down to the loose strands of hair that were teasing his shoulders, knowing that a shower was more than likely needed. His eyes quietly traced the skin that was shadowed by the golden locks, silently noting the bruises that were gradually fading from his arm. He could see the yellowish, purple trail, winding around his upper arm like a bad tattoo. He could see how truly white the color of his skin had become, but for the life of him, he couldn't see how thin and weak the limb had become. It was beyond his vision now, his eyes not permitted to see the travesty he had committed upon himself.

Slowly, he rose to his feet, finally used to the metallic clank of metal his left foot provided when his right one hit the floor. He made his way to the small bathroom, thankful at its size, knowing it would be hard as hell for Al to get in there, if he had reason to, that is.

Flipping on the light switch, he pulled off the seemingly large undershirt, tossing it to the floor. He was just about to undress fully when the mirror caught his attention. The one thing he tried to avoid, but every time he turned around, couldn't. It was as though as invisible force drew him towards the sight his reflection provided, and he hated the piece of glass for all that it was worth.

Months of self-torture, unapparent to him, showcased itself upon his visage. The lack of food had all but robbed him of any bit of color and vibrancy that was once proficient on his features, his cheeks too sunken in for his own good. But the reality of it all—his reality, was dangerously warped, the delusion that every thing was alright perfectly set in his mind. His brow narrowed as he gave one last glance at the ghost of a boy that stared back at him before turning towards the shower.

"Dammit," he muttered, fidgeting with the bandage that was also in need of a change. "Why isn't the damn thing healing faster?" The twelve year old's question fell on deaf ears, the alchemist not even bothering to listen to himself.

Carefully, he unraveled the white piece of material, the skin still a bit red and itchy around the wound. He gently ran one of his flesh fingers across it, feeling a tingle of pain run through the limb. It was on the road to recovery, but due to lack of nutrients and proper rest, the healing process had been greatly stunted.

Reaching his hand through the near-transparent shower curtain, he turned on the water, making sure it was hot before he climbed in. Steam immediately shot through the small room, humidity slowly soaking into his lungs.

Shakily, he got in, the involuntarily chattering of his teeth slowly coming to a stop as the hot water started to hit him. The twelve year old closed his eyes, letting the deeply tensioned muscles relax underneath the water pressure. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around himself, feeling eerily alone.

He hadn't meant to upset his little brother. Nowadays, that was becoming more and more commonplace the further they went on. It wasn't as though he tried to piss the younger boy off every chance he got; he was just doing what he thought was best for the both of them, even if it didn't seem like the wisest decision at the time.

_Why doesn't he understand? I just want to get him out of that damned metal body, and back into his old one! I'm doing this for his own good. Why doesn't he get it? And I'm not obsessed either...am I?_

He didn't like the direction his thoughts were going, cutting them off before he started to lose what little bit of self-contained sanity he had left.

With a sigh, he rinsed the shampoo out of his hair, watching the foamy substance circle around the drain before it was sucked down into the pipes. His brow narrowed as he realized there was something mixed with the water, something barely noticeable since it tried to blend in with the water, doing a fine job of it up until now.

He bent down to examine it, running his hand through the transparent liquid, only to come up with a handful of hair. At the sight of that much hair wrapped around his fingers, he stood up, his heart pounding in his ears. Hurriedly, he began pulling out the loose strands, tugging at the tips of his hair. His eyes widened as more and more stuck to his digits, a clump soon forming in his hands.

As nausea teased his throat and stomach, he let the disgusting sight fall to the shower floorwatching it twirl around the drain before it went down it. His jaw clenched immediately, the twelve year old trying desperately to hold down whatever was still in his stomach.

His hands shook as he moved the soap across his body, ignoring the bones that were seemingly jutting out of his skin.

The distinct taste of iron quietly found its way to his mouth, he spitting in reflex. Bloody saliva mixed with the rest of the liquid that was continuously spinning around the drain, creating a nasty shade of pink in the mix.

Taking a deep breath, he finished the shower, inwardly hoping that dizziness wouldn't come to conquer him as it so loved to do. He reached for the towel, the smell of bleach hitting him as soon as he dried his face off. His nose crinkled at this, but he was far too preoccupied with other things to notice.

He stepped out, careful not to slip on the wet floor. The blonde dried himself off, wrapping the towel around his waist when he was finished. He picked up his clothes, trying to stand up as slowly as possible, but to his dismay, a round of double vision knocked him senseless, he leaning on the wall for support. Once it had passed, he opened his eyes, the mirror catching his glance once more, though this time, for an entirely different reason.

Sprawled across it in perfectly clear script, the word _Soon_ met his immediately distraught face, his clothes falling to the floor as the reality that he was not alone hit him. Before panic could settle in, another thought struck him.

"Al, that is not funny!" he shouted, limping out of the bathroom and into the chill of the inn room. The blonde's mouth fell open as he realized he was still alone. "Al! Quit hiding! This is _not _funny! I know you hear me! Look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to make you mad! You know I'm getting better at it, right?" the anger that held his tongue quickly turned joking, his golden eyes gleaming with silent fear. "Al? Alphonse?"

The door opened, a solemn suit of armor making its way into the room, brown bag in hand. Glancing up and seeing his brother standing half naked in the middle of the room brought immediately confusion to his thoughts, his gauntlet tightening on the food.

"Um, Ed, what are you doing?" he asked, tilting the helmet to one side as he took the sight of his shaking and obviously cold brother in.

It took a minute for the boy to respond, his gaze finally meeting Al's. "That's not funny, Alphonse," he scolded seriously, trying to hide the limp that was still confiscating his leg as he walked over to the single chair in the room, opening up the suitcase that held his clothes.

"What's not funny, Brother?" the eleven year old inquired curiously, taking a few steps towards the obviously confused State Alchemist.

"Writing that crap on the mirror!" Edward responded sharply, trying to hide the tears that were brimming in his golden orbs. "You know, I know I upset you and everything, but you didn't have to do that! I wouldn't even do that to you," he added, muttering underneath his breath as he pulled an undershirt and pair of pants from the suitcase.

"Ed, I didn't write anything in the bathroom. I just got in," the boy replied innocently, though there was a slight tinge of annoyance in his undertone.

The boy continued fidgeting with the suitcase until finally his stubborn streak cooled. Slowly, he looked up at his younger brother who still hadn't moved from the spot he was in.

"You really didn't write that in the bathroom?" he questioned softly, glancing up at the eleven year old through his bangs, his head still bowed slightly.

"No, Ed, _what_ are you talking about?" Now the boy was annoyed, and that emotion could be told through his voice alone. He folded his gauntlets, continuing to stare down at the motionless twelve year old.

"Nothing. Never mind," he murmured, casting his glazed eyes on the bed. Without another word, he grabbed his clothes and made his way into the bathroom, wearily peering up at the mirror. Any trace of the word was gone, the steam dissipating into the room. "I know what I saw," he muttered, gritting his teeth, anger suddenly rising over him. Tears burned once again at his eyes as he clenched the counter top, both arms shaking in frustration and weakness.

Hanging his head, he started to dress, careful not to agitate the wound anymore than it already was. He sighed as a lone knock graced the door.

"What is it, Al?" he asked, exasperation clear in his tone. Another knock followed, a sigh escaping his lips as he cracked the door open. Before he could say another word, a piece of white material in the form of a bandage was held up in front of him, the younger boy silent in his response.

Edward stared up at the dangling cloth, a pained smile slowly forcing his mouth to turn up. He quietly took the fresh bandage, his wet hair still shielding his face.

"Thanks, Al," he said quietly, his voice hanging on the edge of a whisper, his gaze gradually wondering up to his little brother's.

"It's okay, Brother, really," the boy responded honestly, still feeling guilty about their earlier confrontation.

"No, I mean it. Thanks. You didn't have to do anything for me, but you did anyway. Even though I know I pissed you off. I'm sorry," he added, the pained expression still more than evident.

"I'm sorry too," Alphonse apologized, wishing that at that moment, he could've smiled, just to bring some sort of life or happiness to those golden orbs that seemed drained and weary. "Cheer up, Ed. We're almost there," he tried, getting the faintest sign of reassurance from the older boy.

"Yeah, hey, um, do you think you could braid my hair for me? It's still kinda wet and all..." his voice trailed off, suddenly looking very shy and young, younger than his twelve years anyway.

"Sure, uh, in here?" Al asked, looking back and forth at the small amount of space in the little room.

"Sorry, give me a minute," he said quickly, shutting the door right in the younger boy's face.

"Ed!" the indignant cry came, the eleven year old folding his arms in protest. "Are you embarrassed now or something?" he asked only to get a scoff from Edward.

"Yeah, right! I'm not embarrassed," the boy muttered, hurriedly slipping on his pants and shirt, inwardly hoping his brother didn't hear the tiny murmurings of, "Ow! Ow!" over and over again as the material slid over his leg.

"Forgetting something?" Al inquired knowingly from the other side of the door, a quick laugh escaping his metal shell. When he received no reply, he tapped the door. "How about you come out here and I'll wrap your leg, then braid your hair?" the semi-patient alchemist offered.

The door slowly cracked open, Edward limping past the larger boy, the bandage clearly hanging off his leg in a half-hearted attempt to wrap it. Without a word, he let defeat settle in as he sat down on the bed, watching his little brother kneel down to do it a bit more carefully.

"How's it feel?" the younger boy asked, glancing up at the State Alchemist whose gaze had been cast on the floor before Alphonse spoke. He looked up at the steel suit, shrugging.

"I can finally put a little weight on it, if that's what your asking," he replied, leaning back on the bed, his hand touching the brown bag. "What's this?" he asked, opening it up.

"The only place that was open was a little donut shop down the street. That was the only kind they had," the boy explained, glancing up as he saw his older brother slowly start to pick apart the glazed food, putting a little in his mouth at time.

_At least it's something, _the eleven year old told himself, glancing back down at the bandage, making sure it was tight.

"Alright, turn around," Al instructed, reaching for Edward's comb. Gently, he ran it through the boy's hair, careful not to pull too hard on the tangles.

"You know, Al, you remind me more and more of Mom each day," the words left the State Alchemist's mouth as he ate a little more of the glazed confectioneries, his golden orbs concentrated on the food, trying as hard as he could to force himself to eat it, if not for his benefit then for his brother's.

The combing stopped for a moment, a pang of pain temporarily paralyzing the younger boy. "Thanks, Brother," the appreciation came, his voice barely above a whisper. If he had his real body, tears would have been falling from his eyes.

"Sometimes I forget who the older one is!" Edward laughed off the sentiment, knowing his last comment had struck a chord within the other boy.

"I don't," Al mumbled, shaking his helmet in honesty, carefully starting to braid the still wet, golden locks.

"We're almost there, Al. I can feel it. Who knows? Maybe by this time next week, you'll have your body back," the words left his lips, the boy not knowing what the future was soon holding for him. Later on, he'd understand why he hated fate, but for the time being, that notion was lost on him.

&&&&&

"There's been a change of plans. You are to report to a town called Liore. I'll have further instructions when you get there," Sloth's voice met an angered Envy's ears, the homunculous obviously pissed.

"What are you talking about, a change of plans?" Envy spat, clenching the phone in one hand, its pale skin growing even paler around the knuckles. "I thought we were supposed to get those twirps to go there first, after they had their little play time in Renégauld."

"As I said, there's been a change of plans. You three are to head there first. Contact me when you get there," the other homunculous stated before hanging up the phone.

"So, where are we going?" Lust inquired, standing a few feet away from the scowling Envy, anger burning in its violet eyes.

"We're not going anywhere 'til I've had my fun first," the purple-clad homunculous declared, the scowl slowly transforming into a demented grin.

"You're disobeying orders?" the voluptuous one asked, one hand going to her hip, an eyebrow raising.

"Those two brats don't know anything about pain. Not yet anyway. We'll go to Liore once we're done with them," Envy ordered, getting up. "That stupid little pipsqueak won't know what hit him..."

**Author's note : Hey, would you look at that? I'm finally done! After a week and half. Anyway, I just want to say that I can't believe the continuous amount of support I'm receiving for this story. It's completely unexpected and I can't thank you all enough. Seriously, I really do appreciate it. **

**So once again, many, MANY THANKS goes to Roy-Fan-33, JChrys, Akamori-chan, Night Fox Hiten, ssj2raider, Aemilia Rose, ThePatheticWriter, queenstrudel, stvv, hyperdude, Legendary Chimera, Hitokiri Musei, marufu-chan, iceprincess421, Azumizai, Shattered Mirror01, Mistress of the Night5, Harryswoman, DarkAmber112, and to all of you who've put me on a list or alert. Thank you so much guys. ;) And the silent ones too. :D**

**Hope it wasn't too mushy. XD**


	23. The Waking Nightmare

**Title : Whispers of a Nightmare**

**Genre : Anime/Manga**

**Category : Full Metal Alchemist**

**Disclaimer : Nope, this one belongs to someone else as well. **

**Summary : Takes place after the incident with Nina. Something's wrong with Ed, and Al just can't quite figure out what it is. Serious situations and angst ensue.**

**Warnings : Angst, mild language, violence, and other issues that shall go unnamed for now. I don't want to give away too much of the plot just yet, now do I? ;)**

**Rating : T **

**Chapter 23 : The Waking Nightmare (Beautiful Agony)**

He should've known by the color of the sky that morning that things weren't going to turn out quite as he was hoping they would. Even though it was fairly early, it was apparent that a storm was brewing, clearly evident from the yellowish and dark grey clouds that polluted what was supposed to have been a clear blue sky. It was anything but.

"Brother, are you sure we shouldn't just wait 'til the storm passes over? I mean, we're not that far from Renégauld. It'll probably be over in a few minutes," Alphonse tried to reason, that familiar feeling that something wasn't quite right snaking through his soul. His helmet quickly turned as thunder rumbled in the not too far off distance, the eleven year old oddly nervous and shaky all of a sudden.

"Just calm down, Al," Ed played it off, a feeling of silent dread sinking in his stomach. He was hoping that it was just the three donuts he'd managed to eat a few hours before, but ultimately, he knew better. "It's not like we haven't walked in the rain before. Besides, if it does only last a few minutes, what harm can it do?" he asked shrugging, forcing a tight-lipped smile to his pained lips.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," the younger boy mumbled distantly, quietly peering up at the riling horizon.

_This doesn't look good...Are we making another mistake again?_

The words echoed mercilessly through the boy's metal exterior, unsure of whether or not the excitement of actually getting somewhere with the Stone was getting the better of him.

_What could possibly go wrong though? It's just a little town...right?_

"About how far away do you think it is?" Edward asked after a minute, a brisk wind gusting past him, lifting his bangs into the air temporarily. The chill brushed against his cheek, forcing him to shudder, albeit involuntarily.

Alphonse quietly removed the piece of paper from his cloth belt, glancing down at it.

"I think we're still about a kilometer away, possibly two," he replied, folding the map back up neatly and sticking it back in between the cloth and the cool metal surface.

"So we're definitely close then," Edward stated, more to himself than his brother. His mind was beginning to drift away from the weather to the possibilities that were awaiting them in the town. Silent thoughts of hope crept at the corners of his mind, though the cynicism that laid dormant in his soul was beginning to awaken.

The only thing he wanted or cared about, for that matter, was getting Alphonse his body back, and if the answer to that question was within a kilometer of their reach, then so be it.

He too glanced up at the sky, fat droplets of rain starting to pour from the brooding heavens. Lightning flashed excitedly across the sky, remnants of a broken nightmare coming to mind. He shivered once more, lowering his brow at his weakness.

_Whatever it takes...Don't forget._

His vision traveled to the pocket watch chain that was dangling noisily as he walked, the date inside echoing the memories that were flashing through his head.

_Even if it takes me straight into hell..._

He gave the spiraling storm one more glance before pulling his hood over his head, not letting a little rain storm keep him from the possibility of bringing his brother back to the way he was before. The sooner they got there, the better.

&&&&&

"Approximately how far away are we from that town?" Mustang asked, anger definite in his undertone, his hardened gaze fixed on the road before him. Time was running out, faster than he could imagine. Thus, leading to the accumulation of an automobile, a poor civilian's no less; but the man had no choice due to the severity of the situation. Drastic times called for drastic measures.

"I would say six kilometers, sir," Hawkeye responded, holding on for dear life as the man swerved to stay on the road, the gas pedal pressed to the floor. She glanced at the map only for a second, inwardly chastising herself for letting the man she was supposed to protect take control of the vehicle. After all, there was a reason why she was the one always behind the wheel. But today, Roy Mustang decided he would be the one in the driver's seat, much to the dismay of the Major and First Lieutenant.

"And the chance that the gas is still toxic?" he questioned to no one in particular. For the first time since the War, his heart felt as though it was about to explode in his chest. The amount of worry that consumed his being was only being showcased in the speed that he was forcing the car to go, other than that, he kept his face expressionless, more for his own benefit than his comrades.

"Due to the fact that it was never properly contained, I would say ninety percent," Hawkeye responded, her cinnamon colored eyes staring straight ahead, silently praying they wouldn't perish before they made it there due to the Lt. Colonel's current state and driving skills.

"Ninety percent?" Hughes inquired from the back seat, disbelief in his tone. He leaned forward, sticking his head between the two front seats, a fearful sensation burning in his chest. He didn't like the fact that the hair on the back of his neck was on end either.

"Since the area was only closed off and never sealed, the gas leak is more than likely still out in the open. It may not be as toxic, but it's still dangerous. The effects it could have would still do a bit of damage, even to a considerably healthy person. Scarring of the lungs would be a probable side effect of prolonged exposure. It might also be highly hallucinogenic. I wouldn't know for sure until we got there," the blonde replied, trying to keep whatever calm she had left.

"I don't understand why this was never taken care of. It just doesn't make sense. I guess I could try to understand the Fuhrer's reasoning behind it, but there's still the fact that it could have been done quietly, judging he doesn't like too much public exposure," Hughes stated, his brow narrowing in thought. "But still, I mean, just leaving the whole town to deteriorate like that...doesn't make sense," he muttered, hoping that they weren't too late.

The engine roared as the car went forward, swerving once more around a curve before reaching a bridge, a broken one at that.

"You've got to be kidding me," Hughes mumbled bluntly, his hazel eyes narrowing on the gap of approximately forty feet that separated them from the other side of the bridge.

Putting it into reverse, Mustang backed the car up, a cry of surprise emanating from the backseat.

"Wait a second, Roy, you're not going to..." Maes voice trailed off as he smelled rubber burning, the tires obviously in pain from the punishment the Lt. Colonel was putting them through.

"I'm in a hurry, Hughes, not insane," Mustang replied, turning the car around, differing to another route.

"Sir, I don't see any other—" Hawkeye began but cut herself off as the onyx-eyed man made a sharp turn into the underbrush. Within seconds, a dirt road formed in front of them, the woman slowly relaxing back into the seat, though still on her guard. The only thing against them now was time, always a sworn enemy.

&&&&&

"Alright, next time I'll listen to you...Al," the joking statement was cut off as a broken sign appeared before the boy.

Slowly, he pulledkoff his hood, rain water dripping from it and splattering to the ground. His eyes read the words that were still left, his brow narrowing at the decrepit sight that sat before him.

Something immediately turned in his stomach. Something wasn't right.

"That's strange," Al murmured, stepping up next to the shorter boy, rereading the remnants of the welcome sign. "You'd think they'd keep up with appearances or something. I mean, it's not exactly the right way to welcome strangers," the younger boy added, his gaze drifting to the town, the streets eerily empty.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" Ed questioned, glancing up at Alphonse, receiving nothing but sarcasm back.

"Unless the whole town decided to move, I'm pretty positive this is it," he replied, hesitant to move across the invisible threshold.

A gust of wind blew past them, only one of them able to feel the hair-raising chill it brought, though silently, both could hear it's whisper of warning.

"If we stare any longer, we might as well take a picture," the State Alchemist muttered with a smirk, pushing his legs to move forward. But something nagged at him, and the fact that his flesh leg was starting to feel just as heavy as his automail one wasn't helping matters either.

"It's awfully quiet," Alphonse tried to lighten the mood, his feelings of unrest and uneasiness starting to taunt him. As the empty buildings came into view, the feelings grew worse. "Brother, I'm not liking the looks of things," he stated, his voice hanging on the edge of a quiver.

"Stop being a baby, Al!" he laughed off the eleven year old's fear. "Maybe they heard we were coming and they're throwing us a welcome party. I bet they don't get too many State Alchemists all the way out here." He was trying, but his attempts were unsuccessful, that was evident. But what wasn't was the fact that he was nearly scared to death, the faint sound of voices beginning to run through his ears.

"Do you hear that?" the twelve year old asked out of the blue, his confused gaze falling on the street, whispers continuing to filter through his hearing.

"Hear _what_?" Al inquired flatly, forcing his voice to remain strong, though the strain was apparent.

Edward moved his lips, about to say something but cut himself short when he stopped hearing the usual crunch of gravel underneath his feet.

A loud _snap_ pulsated through his head, curiosity obviously getting the better of him as he looked down, a large bone laying underneath his feet. His golden orbs traced the fine cracks in the two remaining pieces of the object, the yellowing color of it reminding him of something else...so vaguely familiar yet a million thoughts away at the same time.

But he didn't have to time to remember whatever it was at the moment. No, his mind was now concentrated on the wave of nausea that swept through his stomach and up his throat, vomit threatening to part his lips.

The painstaking chill that wound its way up and around his spine finally made it to his brain, warning him that he and Alphonse should just turn around and run; but the voices that were cascading through his head told him different.

_Don't you want your answers, Edward?..._

_This is your only chance..._

_If you leave now..._

_You'll never be able..._

_To bring your brother back..._

_Don't go..._

It was though an invisible force pushed him forward, propelling him further into the town, Alphonse trailing confusedly behind him.

"Brother! What are you doing? Let's get out of here!" the younger boy tried to reason, the older one having nothing of the kind.

"No, Al! Don't you see? It's here!" he exclaimed, starting to run deeper into the heart of the small city, thunder rumbling overhead. Lightning sizzled above them, igniting the heavens in its fury.

"What's here?" Alphonse screamed back, trying to keep up with his older brother, though his attempts were becoming futile. The smaller boy was becoming a shadow in his vision, that worrying him more than anything.

Just two days before, the blonde couldn't even walk on his own let alone run; and now he was sprinting through the streets at seemingly the speed of light, his leg wound gone and forgotten about.

"Brother, stop! Come back! Or slow down! _Brother_!" he yelled, watching the older boy disappear into the depths of the town. He continued to run until he realized Edward was nowhere in sight, fear wracking his soul.

Coming to a stop, he looked around, the armor clanking miserably below him. He glanced down at himself, momentarily confused at his trembling.

_Am I shaking? But why? I can't be this afraid...can I? _

"Brother!" his voice rose, fear plain and clear in his tone. "Brother!" he screamed again, almost shrieking. This was not good. He was alone and without Ed. And for the life of him, he was terrified.

Rain started to pour once more, clattering against his armor. He stood there for a moment, listening to the drops of water pelt against the metal. The only thing that shook him from the strange trance-like state he was in was the sound of Edward screaming, sounding utterly horrified and helpless.

&&&&&

Large drops of water pounded against the windshield, temporarily blocking the three officers vision, only pissing off the driver even more. Hurriedly, he switched on the windshield wipers, but apparently they weren't working fast enough for his liking.

"Sir, according to the amount of time that's passed, we should be entering the town any minute," Hawkeye informed the two men, glancing at her watch. "If you don't mind me asking," she began quietly, her gaze quickly drifting between the Lt. Colonel and the outside. "But how did you know about that road, sir?" she queried. "It's nowhere on the map."

Mustang was silent for a moment before answering, still wondering why the car couldn't go any faster. Lost in his thoughts, a mumble parted his pursed lips.

"It's funny how a mind can remember things when it needs to." She watched as something flashed in his eyes, the deep pools of ebony baring some sort of emotion, though what it was, was left unknown.

"We're here." Two more words managed to escape the dark-haired man's mouth once more, the woman now realizing what exactly it was that sped through his eyes; recognition.

"Sir?" she asked, her voice failing her. The authoritative tone was gone, replaced with something much more soft and fragile. Upon seeing the fearful look on his face, she closed her mouth, preparing for what was to come.

&&&&&

He couldn't understand what had possessed him to run. The pain that seared through his leg the moment he started to was nearly unbearable, it crisscrossing through his nerves and veins, feeling as though it were on fire. But the more he tried to stop, the worse it got. It was as though he was set on autopilot and had no other choice but to move forward, no matter the consequences.

Buildings and paintings of horror raced past his eyes as he flew past them, not yet able to distinguish the bones that littered the streets and sidewalks, decorating the town. They were just blurs in his vision until he finally started to slow down, the vague realization that Alphonse was no longer behind him or near him for that matter.

The twelve year old could feel his pace slow down until it felt as though he were running on empty, everything coming in much clearer than it had before. And when he saw the images that lay around him and before him, he wished he hadn't stopped.

The only sounds he heard were that of the thunder crackling above his head, and those voices. His eyes widened at this, slowly peering from side to side, taking in the sight of skulls and bones that once belonged to the townspeople. And that color...that sickening, yellowish shade.

The minute he realized what it had reminded him of, his whole world slowly crumbled to the ground, the shadows of the nightmares he'd been seeing every night for the previous months becoming a reality.

It was the moaning that first made its way into his ears, creeping into his hearing slowly but surely, sending chills across his small body. His golden orbs darted back and forth, the sounds obviously coming from the remains that were now taking form.

He could feel his breath leave his lungs, they refusing to let anymore enter back in. The wheezing noise that was leaving his throat was by far softer than the song of the citizens of Renégauld, their faces now appearing before him, their arms outstretched for his throat.

He stumbled backwards, his feet slipping on the wet ground, the blonde unable to keep his balance. The loud _thwack_ that met his ears took a minute to sink in, he unable to realize that it came from himself. Landing flat on his back, his eyes widened even more, the air having been completely knocked out of his lungs.

He sat up straight immediately, the noise that parted his lips sounding like the last breath of a dying person's final moments.

Involuntary tears brimmed at his eyes, stinging his tear ducts. Not even bothering to wipe them away, he hurriedly pushed himself backwards, his automail hand scraping against the ground. He didn't even feel the pieces of glass and gravel that were getting caught in his flesh hand, blood trickling from the tiny wounds.

He couldn't speak, the only sounds making their way out of his mouth were hushed whimpers, sounding much more like a terrified child than a certified State Alchemist.

"_Why couldn't you save us?"_

"_You filthy dog! How dare you come here!"_

"_It hurts...please make it stop...please..."_

"_Soon, you'll be one of us..."_

"_Then you'll know what it feels like...to be forgotten about!"_

The moaning grew louder, cries and shrieks now interweaving with them.

Tears cascaded down his cheeks at an alarming rate, handicapping his vision as he continuously grabbed at the air, praying that it would eventually catch something. The only thing it caught was a wall, his fingers scratching hopelessly at it, the high-pitched sound doing nothing to deafen the voices that continued to pour through his head.

"_It's all your fault! Murderer!"_

"_Murderer! Murderer!"_

"_I heard he killed his own mother..."_

"_And his brother..."_

The twelve year old could nothing but shake his head violently at the accusations, his lips quivering harder as the cold rain continued to fall on them and mix fervently with his tears. He tried to push himself up, his legs faltering miserably below him. His heavy black boots slipped in the muddy ground, the boy getting nowhere fast. Murky water splashed up around him, littering his pale face with its dirt and grime.

He quickly turned away from the ghastly images, finally managing to get enough leverage to pull himself up. But as soon as his back faced the harrowing sight behind him, they reached for him, their bony fingers digging into his flesh, the material ripping in its wake.

He screamed, lurching forward and smashing his head into the side of the building he was desperately trying to hold onto.

Dizziness haunted his eyes as he tried to remain standing, everything starting to spin at once. His knees quavered, the weakness almost sending him back to the ground.

Pain found its way into his back, the tips of what used to be fingers continuing to claw and scrape at him, his clothes shredding instantly at the sharpness.

"_Leave him awone,"_ a small voice broke through the angry crowd, silence temporarily seizing their voices.

As the blood trickled out of his thin body, so did the sanity as he turned slowly back, instantly recognizing the voice. His terrified golden orbs were met with the sight of the four year old girl he and his little brother had become so fond of not less than a year before.

He traced her face with his eyes, her flesh appearing to be real and nontransparent. For a moment, he tricked himself into believing she was real, no matter how many times the minute voice in the back of his head told him it was foolish to even fathom the idea. He'd seen the blood...so much blood.

A name formed on his lips but the blonde remained speechless, his voice still lacking.

"_He's onwe twying to help us. Isn't dat white whittle big bwuthor?"_ she asked, stepping forward, within inches of him now. Her auburn colored hair even looked like it was starting to get wet, the heavens still not yet done with their tears.

"_It's okay whittle big bwuthor. Here, take my hand,"_ the little girl offered, her tiny hand outstretched in front of his face.

Edward stared at the little hand, his brow raising as fear snaked through his nerves. He could see the skin, so pinkish and healthy looking, and the tiny little nails Al had worked so hard to keep clean.

Slowly, he reached his hand out towards hers, and she took it, though her grip was anything but gentle.

He watched in horror as his automail fingers crumbled in her grasp, and even though he drew back, her hold was too tight, the metal snapping easily snapping away.

And all she could do was smile at him, the innocence shining as pure and as bright as the snow on a cold winter's day. Her eyes glimmered eerily in the mist of rain that was now shrouding her, a faint giggle parting her lips.

"_What's wong, whittle big bwuthor? Why do you wook so scared? It's onwe me," _she laughed, striking him across the face with her other hand, the boy landing helplessly on his side, pain circulating through his quivering body. _"I'm onwe pwaying, Edward. I thought you liked to pway with me! You pwomised you'd come back and pway with me!_" She was screaming now, tears cascading down her cherubic face. "_You pwomised you'd come back and pway! Wemembor?"_

_This isn't real. This isn't real. This isn't real._

The words repeated over and over again in the boy's head as he struggled to get away, grimacing as he heard pieces of his automail arm getting pulled off, flying quietly into the mud.

"_Where are you going, whittle big bwuthor? I'm not done pwaying yet!"_ she shrieked, her brow narrowing as the signs of a tantrum were starting to show, the twelve year old oblivious to it all.

Relief flooded through him as he felt her let go of his arm, but that quickly dissolved as a loud crunching noise could be heard coming from his leg.

Blonde, stringy bangs flew from his face as he turned back, the child having stomped directly on his leg, wires and metal flying in all directions. Suddenly, he found his voice.

"Stop!" he cried out, his voice quavering weakly, tears streaking through the dirt that was now caked on his face. "Please!" He hung his head, breath leaving his lungs at a fairly steady rate, rain soaking his small body through and through. He was at the end of the line now. It wouldn't be much longer. He just couldn't take it anymore.

The faint noise of footsteps slowly made their way into his hearing, the boy barely having enough energy to raise his head up. They were coming closer, but for the life of him, he just couldn't do it. He was too weak.

&&&&&

_Brother!_ The immediate shout rang through Al's thoughts, instantly recognizing the scream as Ed's. It only took a second for the boy to force his heavy metal legs to move, the clanking noise that resonated off of them growing louder with each step he took.

_What is wrong with me? How could I have just let him run off like that? We've got to get out of here!_

The eleven year old easily followed the footprints that Edward had left behind in the now muddy ground, forcing the metallic suit to run faster than what was possible. Turning a corner, he came upon the sight, a sad one at that.

_Oh, no...Brother..._

The State Alchemist was on his hands and knees, panting heavily. Dirty blonde locks that had been golden just twenty minutes before hung around his face, a loose ponytail left of the braid Alphonse had tied just hours before, the gusting wind threatening to blow that out of place as well.

The boy's red coat was torn and tattered, hanging too loose on his tiny frame, the wind making it billow hurriedly around his small body. His pants and the material covering his arms were shredded, looking like dead leaves about to fall from an autumn tree.

"Brother?" Al questioned sadly, his voice wafting through the air like a gentle breeze lost in a rainstorm. He took a step, freezing upon seeing his older brother tense at the noise. "Ed?" His voice was still soft yet sad, completely and utterly sad.

The twelve year old raised his head ever so slightly, peering at the origin of the sound that flooded his ears through his bangs. His weary golden orbs took in the sight of his brother, though the vision that he saw was not the sight that lived in reality.

The boy's eyes widened, forcing what little adrenaline that was left in him to make himself stand, his balance horribly handicapped.

"Al! Al, get out of here! Go! She'll get you!" he cried out, a shaking, bloodied hand pointing to absolutely nothing but air, except for the mist that was currently occupying it.

"Who'll get me, Brother?" The confusion in the eleven year old's voice was obvious to himself, but not to Ed.

"Her! Nina!" Edward shouted, his golden orbs transfixed on something only meant for his eyes to see. "Get out of here!" he screamed, his voice trembling wildly. He looked up, seeing the flesh and blood Alphonse, not the metallic one which only made the pain worse. "Please, Al...just listen to me..." His voice trailed off, fear searing through it.

"Brother..." The eleven year old was on the verge of crying now, his tone on the edge of a whisper. There was nothing there where the State Alchemist was pointing, absolutely nothing which was scaring the younger boy out of his wits. "Stop, Brother..."

Edward turned back to the spot where the little girl had been, the sight now just out of Al's view. And what he saw sent him reeling.

Standing before him was the image of his father, staring down at the boy with a disapproving look in his eyes, a hardened expression on his features. Though as the boy continued to gape at the sight, he soon took in the man's appearance, the flesh starting to peel and fall from his face.

Edward's mouth dropped open, tears hanging in his eyes. Anger tried to flood through his system, but he was too weak to notice. All he could do was stare, watching as the man bent down, just a few feet away from him and whispered words only he could hear.

"_You'll always be a failure. No son of mine would ever be that incompetent. You couldn't even bring back your mother. No wonder she died hating you."_

A wicked grin crossed the man's lips before his image disappeared, transforming into that of Trisha Elric, her pain-stricken expression staring Edward dead in the eyes.

"_I loved you...And you did this to me...and your brother...How could you, Edward? How could you? Why didn't you save me? It hurts, Edward...It's your turn to feel my pain!"_

The blow to his head sent him to the ground, darkness closing in quickly. The last sounds to invade his ears were his brother's cries, gradually fading into the background of the black velvet. Slowly, he felt himself sink into the never-ending ocean of shadows, they consuming him from the inside out.

&&&&&

The sound of tires easing onto ground that wasn't meant to be driven on drifted quietly through the car, dread filling in the rest of the space left unconsumed by the noise. All three occupants watched in silent desperation as they came upon a seemingly lone figure, hunched over and shaking, holding something in its metal arms.

"We're too late," the words mercilessly left Mustang's lips, his tone filled with dreaded honesty. His onyx eyes took in the sight of Alphonse, rain still bouncing off his steel skin.

Stopping the vehicle, the three departed the haven of the car, transparent water pouring down on them from the heavens above. Lightning continued to electrocute the clouds, the sky seemingly glowing with blue and purple streaks.

Upon hearing the sounds of the vehicle approaching, the eleven year old peered up, his soul-filled eyes flickering with woe. Whimpers emanated from the large suit of armor as his gaze met Mustang's.

"Please, help him," the boy pleaded, his voice going in and out. "He won't wake up."

Hawkeye immediately knelt down to calm the boy, Hughes joining in as well, quietly trying to pry Edward out of Alphonse's strong hold, the task seemingly fruitless; but the Lt. Colonel didn't move at all. It was as though he was temporarily frozen, taking in the sight and forcing himself to remember every little aspect and detail of it. From the gunmetal color of the sky right down to the broken pieces of metal that now littered the muddy ground, obviously once belonging to the golden haired boy.

The guilt that had made its home in the pit of his stomach multiplied tenfold, the man inwardly taking responsibility for the situation at hand.

No lecture of reasoning would be given today, none that would come from his mouth anyway.

&&&&&

"That was quite a show," Lust declared, her jet black locks being picked up by the wind, a few blowing across her pale visage. "But how did you know what he was seeing?"

"I rather enjoyed it myself, thank you; and to answer your question, it was quite obvious, really. He saw their bones so naturally he added their faces, and I added mine," the homunculous grinned, transforming from its usual form into that of a four year old girl.

"_Pwease, whittle big bwuthor! Oh, pwease!_" Envy mocked, turning back to its original androgynous self.

"It was like taking candy from a child really," the violet-clad figure admitted with a laugh. "Now where was it we were supposed to go to again?"

"To Liore. We weren't exactly done there in the first place. I suppose we have a few things to wrap up, now that you're done with your playtime," Lust stated, a tiny grin turning up the corners of her lips.

"That brat deserved what was coming to him, and I don't want to hear anything more about it. Shall we go?"

"Lets," Lust replied, catching a glimpse of the black vehicle hurriedly driving away. Something stirred within her, yet what it was would go unnoticed for the moment. Perhaps, she'd recall exactly what it was later. After all, homunculi didn't have consciences, did they?

&&&&&

"Edward? Edward, wake up..." A voice was calling to him from the darkness, so faint yet clear.

"Edward..." It tried again, coming in much louder and so close to his ears. It was so familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on whom it belonged to.

"Edward, this is your last chance. Come on, now..."

"...Mom?"

**Author's note : Sorry for taking so long to update everyone. Work and sleep have pretty much consumed me for the most part so...**

**Hope you guys liked the chapter. I tried not to make it so confusing. Hopefully, it wasn't. ;) If it was, drop me a line in a review or PM me and I'll explain what doesn't make sense. **

**And sorry for all the jumping around too, hope it didn't take too much away from the story, or the suspense for that matter. **

**Once again, the support I've received has just been overwhelming. You all have been so kind to me, and I really do appreciate it. I never, ever would have thought I'd ever reach over 400+ reviews, so honestly, THANK YOU, and I hope this chapter sufficed. **

**THANKS goes to Mistress of Darkness, Harryswoman, Roy-Fan-33, ThePatheticWriter, Hitokiri Musei, Shattered Mirror01, Mistress of the Night5, JChrys, Legendary Chimera, DarkAmber112, ssj2raider, hyperdude, iceprincess421, CrystalMind, queenstrudel, Niver, Aemilia Rose, Akamori-chan, marufu-chan, ArraMidnight, Edshrimp, stvv, and EVERYONE who has reviewed previously or has me on a list. I apologize for not replying to everyone. As I said, it's been crazy, but I will next time. **

**The next update probably won't be until after Thanksgiving, so I hope this chapter will due until then. Oh, yeah, I already have a sequel planned out too! Happy Thanksgiving!!! XD**


	24. Set Adrift On Memory Bliss

**Title : Whispers of a Nightmare**

**Genre : Anime/Manga**

**Category : Full Metal Alchemist**

**Disclaimer : Nope, this one belongs to someone else as well. **

**Summary : Takes place after the incident with Nina. Something's wrong with Ed, and Al just can't quite figure out what it is. Serious situations and angst ensue.**

**Warnings : Angst, mild language, violence, and other issues that shall go unnamed for now. I don't want to give away too much of the plot just yet, now do I? ;)**

**Rating : T **

**Chapter 24 : Set Adrift On Memory Bliss**

He wanted to open his eyes, but the seemingly simple task was turning into a chore, his eyelids heavy with fear and regret. But the woman's voice was so clear, vibrating through his ears a mile a minute. He had to, just to see.

Pools of finely woven gold slowly gave way to emerald orbs, warm and inviting.

The boy immediately sat up, blonde bangs flying astray. His eyes darted around the room, taking it all in as best he could, the sound of his own heavy breathing resonating through his head. The heartbeat and the rate it was beating—was it real?

"Mom?" he asked again, his frantic gaze finally being guided in the woman's direction, her gentle hand turning his cheek towards her. Sweat dripped down his forehead, silently gliding down the back of his neck and underneath his shirt.

"Edward? Are you alright?" Trisha inquired curiously, worry set deep within her eyes. She held his cheek, feeling his forehead with the back of her other hand. "I think you've got a fever," she stated, her brow creasing with concern.

The only thing the child could do was stare at her, awed by the woman's presence. The blonde's mouth dropped open slightly, his golden eyes shimmering in the faint light creeping through the window.

"Maybe we should go see Dr. Consen. You said you weren't feeling good last night," she recollected, running a hand through his ear-length locks, letting the hair fall gently back into place.

"Wait! How old am I?" Edward blurted out, nearly falling off the bed at the quick movement. He continued to stare into his mother's eyes, something just short of a prayer whispering in the back of his head.

"Edward, what's gotten into you?" Trisha queried, tracing the faint lines of confusion on the child's face.

"Just tell me, please? How old am I, Mom?" He felt foolish for asking the question, but was it possible? Was it really possible that all of that was just a dream?

"Edward, you're ten years old." She paused, pursing her lips together before questioning the boy again. "Alright, what's going on, Ed? Are you and Alphonse trying to play a trick on me?" she asked with a laugh, her smile making the ten year old feel strangely guilty and horribly empty at the same time.

His face fell downcast at the answer of his age, the light quickly fading from his eyes. Golden strands made their way politely back into place, the boy trying to hide the tears that were quickly brimming in his eyes.

The woman's face fell as well, recognizing the boy's sudden inconspicuous expression of sadness. She tilted her head to the side, cupping the child's chin in her hand.

"What's wrong, Ed?" Her voice was soft, quiet; exactly the way he remembered it. It soothed him to hear it but made him feel all the worse, his sullen exterior slowly deteriorating.

Before he knew it, the tears were spilling down his cheeks faster than he could control them, raining on the baby blue bedsheets below. As hard as he tried, he just couldn't restrain them anymore.

Without a word, she got up and sat down next to the boy, quietly wrapping her arms around his small body and pulling him close to her. She closed her eyes as stifled whimpers flooded through her hearing, smiling sadly as she felt the warmth of his tears on her chest.

She wouldn't complain, not at all. That was her Edward, emotions running through him faster than he could understand them. He'd probably never change.

"Why do I keep doing this?" the boy mumbled, squeezing the corners of the woman's white apron in his small hands. "_Why_?" he asked to no one in particular, taking in the scent of jasmine and wildflowers. And cinnamon, there was cinnamon there too.

More tears riveted down his cherubic face, Trisha taking them with ease. She pulled him closer, feeling the child's body quivering in her arms.

"Why do you keep doing what?" she asked, glancing down at him. She pushed some of the golden locks out of his face, revealing a disheveled and red-cheeked boy. "Talk to me, Ed."

He stared at her for a quick moment before hanging his head once again, shaking it. He muttered something inaudible, only to have the woman ask him to repeat it.

"You're not real," he stated honestly, still not able to meet her gaze. He tensed up immediately after speaking, not wanting another nightmare to spring about. Though luck, it seemed, was hardly ever on his side anymore.

"What?" She was definitely taken aback by his answer, not expecting those words to leave his mouth. "And just why would you think that, Edward?" She was giving off a hurt smile, but was still confused as to why he answered her question in the fashion that he did.

"You...and Al too, wherever he is. Both of you—you're not real," he answered, shaking his head. "I'm sorry," the two and a half familiar words parted his lips, his tiny hands balling into fists. "I just don't understand." The boy's voice was on the edge of breaking, his head shaking underneath rivers of gold, twisting and turning with each movement. He covered his face quickly, embarrassed at the tears.

Trisha stared at him for a moment, taking in the sight of her oldest son, appearing on the verge of a nervous breakdown. And for the life of her, she couldn't understand where the nonsense that was pouring out of his mouth was coming from.

"Edward, I don't know how bad the dream was that you had, but all I can say is that that's what's not real. I'm here, just like you are now," she stated, gazing down at him, trying her best to reassure the child.

He shook his head in response, knowing it was all just a lie. There was just no way he'd imagined all of that. It wasn't possible.

Almost reluctantly, he pushed away from her, not wanting to be fooled by his own naiveté. The quiet sigh that escaped her lips made its way into his ears, strangely drawing his attention away from his lap.

Slowly, he looked up at her, meeting her weary gaze. And for the very first time, he noticed how tired she truly looked. Exhausted, to be exact. His brow narrowed slightly as he saw the worry and pain hidden deep within her eyes, laying silently dormant. But through whatever pain that was currently possessing her body, she smiled; faintly, perhaps, but it was there nonetheless.

And the thought that quiet possibly, maybe it all _had_ been a dream ran through his head. A hellish nightmare he was supposed to forget by the next day. But could it be true?

The longer he stared into her eyes, the more he was starting to believe it to be. After all, everything seemed so peaceful, so serene.

He could tell from the faint grayish light that was transcending through the window that the sun was apparently hiding behind clouds as large as his imagination, stretching across the sky for miles on end. But it was probably beautiful.

Probably.

"Do you still think you're dreaming?" Her voice struck him clear out of his contemplating thoughts, his eyes adjusting back to normal, letting her tired face come into view. He was silent, faintly anticipating the face of a ghost appearing before him, or worse.

"I don't know," he replied, shaking his head slightly, his voice a distant whisper as his gaze dropped to his lap once more. He shuddered, involuntarily albeit, as thunder rumbled faintly in the distance. The boy wrapped his arms around himself, afraid to move, afraid of what might happen next. But so far, nothing was.

"Why don't you come downstairs and I'll make you some hot chocolate, then you can join your brother in your father's room. If you're up to it, that is," she said with a smile, unable to keep her eyes off the boy. There was definitely something wrong with him; and the fact that he was questioning reality wasn't a good sign either, it wasn't like him.

Edward peered up at her once more, gazing at the strands of honey-brown hair that fell to just past her shoulders, the end of it tied in a loose ponytail. The color wasn't dull and dead as it had been in all his other dreams. It was bright, and shining, even in the din of the small room. And her smile, no matter how small it was, was lively and warm.

"Okay," he finally muttered, slowly sliding off the unmade bed and onto his feet. The fact that he had his arm and leg again should have sent him into a crazed stupor, but for some strange reason, it didn't. It was as though it should have been that way, and he knew it too. Humans weren't meant to have metal arms and legs, they were meant to be flesh and blood; alive. He couldn't help but make a fist, watching the tiny veins come into view, appearing blue underneath his skin.

His skin; it was real, and warm. Hell, it was _there_. It wasn't lost in the land beyond the gate; no, it was on him, and it belonged to him, as it should have.

The boy's mystified expression was slightly shaken as a soft gasp whispered through his ears, his head jerking in its direction. This was it, something bad was going to happen—he was sure of it. He couldn't help but close his eyes for a moment, waiting for something to strike or beat him down to the floor, but it didn't. Everything was still and quiet.

Slowly, he lifted his head, gazing through his bangs to the sight of his mother, leaning against the wall for support. Strands of her hair were hanging in her face, though he could still see the look of pain that graced her features.

"Mom?" the ten year old asked, his voice surprisingly somber and withdrawn. Something clicked inside his head as she glanced over at him, the look in her eyes oddly familiar. "Are you okay?" He saw this before, he knew he had.

"I'm fine," she replied instantaneously, pushing away from the wall and walking towards him. From the looks of things, he could tell she was still unsteady, a pained expression crossing her gentle visage.

"Are you sure?" he inquired, staring up at her, his golden eyes glimmering. Even though he was more than mischievous most of the time, the look on his face held an air of concern way beyond his ten year existence, and yet there was innocence there too. Haunted innocence.

"Edward." Her tone was firm but playful, doing her best to appear as though all was well. "You do remember who the parent is here, don't you?" she queried jokingly, placing a hand on the back of his head.

He was silent, unable to do anything but stare at her.

The parent—the mother. _His_ mother. And she was alive.

_Alive_.

"Come on, before it gets cold," she urged him, guiding the boy towards the door.

"Wait, I thought you said you were going to _make_ it," he stated, raising a curious eyebrow, his voice holding a serious tone, though there were traces of the faintest amount of happiness in it.

She grinned in response, leading him out of the room, not bothering to give a reply to the budding smartass.

Neither paid attention to the date on the calendar as they passed it, it marking the first of February, 1910.(1)

&&&&&

The room was dark, no moonlight able to shine through the windowless space. It was quiet as well, too quiet for the lonely suit of armor that was sitting patiently in the wooden chair, strategically placed next to his older brother's bed.

His soul-filled eyes still lit up the empty shell they possessed, the eleven year old not in his usual restless state when Edward normally slept. He didn't want his eyes to close for anything. He wanted to be aware when his older brother awoke, if he ever woke up, that is.

_You can't think like that. He will wake up. He will!_

Alphonse shifted slightly, his metal parts clanking ever so lightly, echoing throughout the tiny room. He jumped at the noise, afraid that it might disturb the sleeping boy; then again, he did _want_ him to wake up. But at the moment, no amount of noise would able to do that.

Absolutely none.

They'd been in that room for over two weeks, and nothing had changed. Alphonse would just sit there, day after day, praying that his older brother would give some sort of sign that he was still there, but nothing happened. Edward had laid there still and unmoving ever since they had arrived, the sight slowly breaking the boy that awaited his return to the real world.

The drive to Central had been filled with more questions than he'd wanted to answer, coming at him from all three of the people that were trying to protect them. Of course, he knew they were worried, but the only thing he could think about at the time was Edward and if he'd be alright.

He'd managed to dodge most of their questioning, only letting a few answers escape his metallic shell here and there. It wasn't until they had arrived back at Central did the eleven year old finally tell them everything.

"_I'm sorry," Alphonse apologized immediately, his guilt somehow emanating off the suit of armor. He hung his helmet, unable to look at the faces that were staring at him, worry lined deep within each of their faces. _

"_There's nothing to be sorry for, Alphonse," Hawkeye replied back just as quick, placing a gentle but firm hand on the boy's metallic thigh. "Just tell us what happened." She paused, keeping the authoritative expression on her face but softening the tone of her voice. "Do you know how the train derailed?" _

_The eleven year old's helmet jerked up instantly at the First Lt.'s words, taking it as an accusation. _

"_We didn't do it, I swear!" his voice rose as he raised his gauntlets defensively in front of him. _

"_We never said you did, we just want to know how it happened," Mustang interjected, his gaze never drifting away from the boy. _

"_I-I honestly don't know. We—Ed and I—we were on the back of the train when it happened. We weren't able to see a thing," he stated sadly, his helmet turning back towards his cloth-covered lap. _

"_After it was over, did you see anyone suspicious around? Anyone that didn't look like a passenger or part of the crew?" Hughes questioned, leaning forward in his chair, inwardly feeling sorry for the pre-teen, knowing he shouldn't have to be dealing with situations such as the one he and his brother were currently in. _

"_No," Al answered, shaking his head. "But to be honest, I really didn't look around. Ed was wounded pretty bad, and the only thing I could think of was getting him out of there and to a doctor. So, no, I didn't see anyone."_

"_Are you sure?" Hughes tried again, only to receive a nod from the younger boy. The hazel eyed man sat back in his seat, a sigh escaping his lips. _

"_I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, everyone," the young alchemist blurted out, his voice shaking badly. He folded his gauntlets to keep them from shaking, but the harder he tried, the worse they shook. A whimper leaked out of the suit, making the whole scene look even more pitiful. _

"_You don't have to keep apologizing, Alphonse. You didn't do anything wrong," Riza tried to soothe the eleven year old, her gaze catching his out the corner of his eye. _

"_But I know Ed did! He shouldn't have lied like that! But he can't help it sometimes...Once he sets his mind on something, there's nothing I can do! And he wanted so badly to go to Kiase, just to see if we could find anything out about the Stone--" He cut himself short, his helmet hanging once more. _

"_How bad is it?" the quiet whisper escaped the boy's metal body. He glanced up, knowing it couldn't be good if they continued to be silent. "Is he—is he going to make it?" His voice broke at the words, whimpers leaving his metallic suit, his shoulder clanking noisily as they shook. _

"_Alphonse—Al," Riza started, letting a gentle smile pursue her lips. "How did Edward react when you two arrived in Renégauld? Did he act strangely before he lost consciousness?"_

"_Why? What's that got to do with anything?" the boy asked, almost defensively. He stared at the woman, fearful of what she was going to say. _

"_It might help us understand why he hasn't woken up yet. The doctors say that the only reason why he would be unconscious for so long would be due to severe trauma, more than likely, mental trauma," she explained, her tone serious but soft. _

"_He did act a little...weird, but I just thought it was because he was tired. He'd slept since we'd been gone, but it wasn't restful. He was hurt, and he had a fever. And Dr. Hocram said it was due to an infection in his leg. Why?" Alphonse inquired, lifting his helmet up once more. He tilted it to one side, afraid of what he was going to hear._

"_Renégauld was the site of a fatal accident six years ago," Mustang stated, peering into the soul-filled eyes that were the only sign of life in the metal suit. "Toxic gas leaked from the mine and poisoned all the townspeople, killing them almost instantly. But before they died, it was believed that they suffered from severe and vivid hallucinations, caused by the gas, of course. If you say that Full Metal was acting out of sorts, then that's the probable reason as to why. I'm actually quite surprised he was conscious as long as you say he was," the dark haired man admitted, his voice sounding a little too casual for the eleven year old's liking. _

_Alphonse stared at the Lt. Colonel whose arms were folded across his chest, letting the words the man had just said settle in his soul. It was as though he was fully aware though completely dazed at the same time. Finally, it struck him._

"_So you're saying that he...he almost died..." The boy's voice trailed off, disbelief heavy in his tone. He sat there quiet for a moment, eerily still, thoughts of fear and horror beginning to circulate through his mind. "No wonder I couldn't see her. That explains everything." His tone was solemn as he spoke more to himself that the officers in the room. Faintly, he could recall that they were there, but he was starting to lose the battle against his memory, thoughts of his older brother recoiling in fear from someone that wasn't truly there beginning to eat at him._

"_See who, Alphonse?" Mustang inquired, his brow narrowing as the eleven year old's voice made it's way fitfully into his ears._

"_Nina. He saw Nina," Al answered, his helmet hanging in solitude, obviously disturbed by the imagery that was forcing itself through his mind. Images of Edward scared to death of the little girl they tried to save flashed past his eyes, the boy wrenching visibly at the very thought. _

"_You mean Shou Tucker's little girl?" Hughes asked, nearly gapping at the idea. "But why?" He wasn't quite sure why he even asked the question, inwardly recalling how the four year old's death had affected the young alchemist. _

_Alphonse glanced at the hazel eyed man, ready to give a complete explanation but decided better. Those words were meant for he and Ed only, no one else. _

"_Yes," he answered simply, quietly; his gauntlets folded on his cloth-covered lap. "I'd like to go see him now. If that's alright." He steadied himself for immediate rejection, waiting for them to tell him that Edward was still too critical to have visitors yet, even if he couldn't exactly pass any germs to the boy. _

_He watched as Mustang nodded towards his subordinate, Hawkeye instantly standing to her feet. "I'll take you to him," she stated, glancing up into his soul-filled eyes momentarily before heading for the door, clipboard tucked neatly under her arm. _

_Alphonse quickly rose to his feet, thankful that the "interrogation" was finally over. "Thank you," the two words left his steel suit as he bowed slightly in Mustang and Hughes' direction. _

"_For what?" Maes asked, arching an eyebrow, obviously confused. _

"_For saving Ed. I don't know...what I would've done if you three hadn't shown up." The two men immediately picked up on the boy's guilt-drenched tone, silent sighs escaping both of their lips. _

_With a nod, Al turned, following Hawkeye through the various hallways and elevators and into the nearby hospital, military owned and operated. The eleven year old knew the moment he went through those doors, there was a great possibility that he might not be going back through them for quite awhile. But he knew that was the chance he and Ed had both taken, even if only one of them could actually be treated there. _

_His soul-filled eyes flickered as they moved silently past the rooms of other wounded soldiers and members of the military, his helmet turning sharply as pained screams echoed out of one of the rooms and out into the hallway. _

_'At least it wasn't Ed.'_

_He immediately chided himself on the thought, but he couldn't help it. He recalled the way his brother screamed the night they attempted the transmutation of their mother. And then there was the time Edward received his automail. Both moments he knew were filled with pain of the worst kind, and both times, there wasn't a damn thing he could've done to stop it._

_The woman paused before coming to a stop at a room at the very end of the hallway, the eleven year old silently memorizing the numbers 606 that adorned the door. _

"_Before you go in, there's something I'd like to say," she stated, her tone deathly serious yet delicately soft. Slowly, her cinnamon colored eyes found his. "Whether or not you choose to believe it is up to you." She stared at him for a moment before continuing. "The Colonel—isn't as nonchalant about things as you think. Just remember, he's human too." And with that, she turned, leaving the boy to face his older brother alone. _

_With a breathless sigh, he entered the silently still room, though now it was slowly being filled with the sound of his armor clinking awkwardly as he tried to be as quiet as possible. Seemingly walking on his tiptoes, he made it to the left side of Ed's bed, taking in the sight of his damaged and broken older brother. _

_The twelve year old looked like a cracked porcelain doll. His childish visage held years of age that shouldn't have been there, and the dark circles that encased his closed golden eyes were obviously meant for someone three three times his age, time not being fair to the boy. _

_Light bruises colored his cheeks and forehead, Alphonse still not quite understanding how the twelve year old had obtained them. _

_And that was only what was visible. The rest of him lay underneath a plain white cotton sheet, bleached and washed to the point of being almost transparent, making the outline of the alchemist's body look even more disturbing. _

_The want to cry overtook the eleven year old, seeing Edward like that eating at the soul that was transfixed to the metal body he possessed. _

_The young blonde looked so helpless and incomplete, the usual look of determination and stubbornness replaced with an expression of silent pain, intricately drawn across his features in every bruise and crease. _

"_God, Ed, why'd you do this?" _

_At first, Alphonse was surprised at the sound of his voice. It shook with each word, slightly vibrating his steel exterior. He could feel the pain welling up, circulating through his soul. He'd never felt to miserable in his life. _

_His soul-filled eyes flickered across his older brother's body, taking note of how his left leg looked ungodly crooked and strangely out of place, and as he lifted up the sheet, he saw how twisted and broken the piece of metal was. The only thing keeping the leg together were wires that obviously served as nerves, inwardly noting how painful it was going to be when it had to be repaired._

"_But how did this happen? I just don't understand. Oh great, now I'm talking to myself," he murmured embarrassedly, hanging his metal helmet in disbelief. "But it doesn't make sense. If he was hallucinating, then how could this have happened? There was nothing there..."_

_His voice trailed off, thoughts hurriedly jading his already corrupted mind. He stood there, clasping hold of the side of the bed, not realizing what he was doing until the door creaked open, a doctor quietly entering the room. _

"_You must be, Alphonse, I take it," the man stated, glancing up from his clipboard to the six foot tall plus suit of steel that seemingly took up most of the space in the tiny area. "I'm Dr. Locke. I was just checking up on Edward before I left." He smiled at the eleven year old, though the boy could already see the pity that made the corners of the man's mouth turn upwards. _

_Al nodded in reply, his voice suddenly hiding behind the heavy metal that shrouded him. _

"_It appears that your brother has suffered a great deal, physically and mentally. We're still running tests, but currently, we're still not a hundred percent sure as to why he hasn't woken up yet," the blonde haired man explained, his blue eyes seemingly getting lost as peered up into Al's soul-filled ones. _

"_I thought it was because of severe mental trauma," Al suggested, his tone sounding more and more despondent with each word that was spoken. He glanced over at the young looking doctor before turning back to Ed, guilt wrapping itself around him like a blanket. _

"_Though that is what seems likely, we're still not completely positive that's the reason. Of course, as you know, we couldn't find any signs of physical trauma to his head or the surrounding areas, but it is obvious he had many physical wounds over the majority of his body. The large wound on his leg, that was caused by the train derailment, correct?"_

_Al was quiet for a moment, getting lost in his thoughts once more._

"_Mr. Elric?" Dr. Locke asked, glancing up from his clipboard. "Did the wound—did it come—"_

"_Yes," the quiet, affirmative answer emanated from the suit of armor, actually not caring that he'd cut the man off. _

"_Al-right. Well, then, there's also something else I'd like to ask. Your brother—when's the last time he a—"_

_The man was cut off again, though Al just couldn't seem to help it. Seeing Edward in that state was something he'd never wanted to see. And just the thought of losing him..._

"_When's he going to wake up?" His tone was quiet, hushed; though lying in its depths was anger, an emotion the boy hated to touch on, but in this instance, he couldn't help it. He wanted the truth and nothing else. _

_The young man hesitated in his response, giving away the fact that he truly had no clue. He sighed upon seeing Al's response, the boy's gaze coming close to detested. _

"_To be honest, I really don't know. It could be tomorrow, next week, or..."_

"_Or what?" The two words came out a little too sharply for the boy's liking, but he didn't care at the current moment. _

"_Or never," Dr. Locke finished, his blue eyes traveling to the floor. "I'm sorry," he conceded, immediately feeling bad for the eleven year old. _

"_If you'll excuse me, Doctor, I'd like to be alone with my brother now." And with that, he turned away from the man, drawing up the chair that would be his permanent resting place for the next few months._

He'd watched two weeks pass and nothing had changed. Edward hadn't even moved an inch from the moment the boy had first seen him.

Day after day, he sat there, watching, waiting, though nothing ever happened. Even though Edward didn't grow any worse, he still wasn't getting any better. And as much as Alphonse tried to remind himself of that fact, his disdain for the Stone grew worse and worse.

_Maybe it's not really worth it. Maybe we'd be better off...But what about Ed? He doesn't deserve those fake limbs. He'll be my only reason though..._

It took him over a month and a half to finally reach Winry, due to the pleasant hurricane-like storms that had decided to bring down all the phone lines in Risembool. And even then, it would another three weeks before she could actually make it there, the station having been closed in their hometown, apparently in need of repairs.

Before long, autumn had changed to winter, snow beginning its reign over the State, decorating it with its tiny white crystals.

But Edward still hadn't woken, Al's hope slowly draining away with each day that passed. Though the nightmare that Alphonse was living in, was nothing compared to the depths the youngest State Alchemist in the history of Amestris was about to descend into.

&&&&&

Days and months had passed in Edward's dreamlike state, just as they had in Al's, the boy reliving some of the best and the worst times of his life. He'd almost managed to forget about the world he thought he had so-calledly created in his mind.

Almost.

It was a memory that had made its way to the background of his mind, a dream that he had latched onto instead of forgetting.

There were times when he would see his younger brother as a suit of armor instead of a nine year old boy, though he insisted his mind was just playing tricks on him or he was just tired.

But he wasn't prepared for what would happen to him on that day in May. It was sunny, the sky clear for as far as the eye could see. In fact, he'd never seen it that color blue before. It was quite beautiful, something he felt he hadn't seen in ages, even though it hadn't rained in two weeks.

The wind blew carelessly through his hair as he ran, golden locks flying every which way except for where they were actually supposed to be. The warm breeze tugged at his clothes, the ten year old not even realizing or caring that one of his boots were untied. The only thing on his mind was beating Alphonse back to the house, holding the basket of vegetables close to his chest, careful not to spill them.

The boys' laughter floated through the air, neither realizing that would be the last bit of true happiness they would share for quite possibly, the rest of their lives.

Edward managed to keep his lead in front of his little brother, shouting something back to the younger boy about being "as slow as a snail," with which only propelled Alphonse to run faster, though he still couldn't catch up with Ed.

The ten year old made his way up the hill to their two-story house, bounding up the few stairs to the front door. It was the second his hand let go of the knob when the feeling of deja vu struck him plain across the face. The moment seemed to last for an eternity as the all too familiar sight of his mother strewn across the floor met his golden orbs, obviously horror struck.

His mouth dropped open as his eyes met hers, and that's when he saw that lost look in his mother's gaze, the one that stated she knew she probably wouldn't be around much longer.

Immediate dread filled the boy, visions of the future passing speedily through his mind, all the while knowing, his world as he knew it was about to end.

He heard the basket drop to the floor, not even realizing words were coming out of his mouth or that his feet were carrying him over to his mother, a soft moan emanating from her lips. Somewhere, Ed could vaguely hear his little brother emit a scream too and collapse to his knees with the ten year old.

It was only the beginning of the end. And somehow, Edward knew this to be true.

&&&&&

Night crept across Central, shrouding it in darkness, the light of the street lamps being the citizens only refuge. Though at the current time, there wasn't a person in sight, at least not from Mustang's vantage point.

Wind rattled against the large window that sat behind his desk, the man peering despondently out of it, clouded glass in hand.

Onyx eyes surveyed the city, taking in the brilliance of the city's electrical system and the light that it provided, dotting the many houses and few establishments that were still running, even at the midnight hour.

But none of that was any of his concern or in his thoughts, for that matter. The only thing he could think about was Edward, or Full Metal as he referred to him.

The office had been eerily quiet ever since they had arrived back in Central, hardly any spoken words passing through it except for "sir" or the causal hello and good-bye. And the reason for that silence was laying in a hospital bed not more than a hundred yards away.

And in just knowing that fact, it ate at the man who was quietly drinking down the bottle of Scotch that sat on his desk, the liquid level seemingly falling faster than the freezing temperatures outside.

The guilt that had managed to well up inside him and make its dwelling place in the pit of his stomach was a constant reminder that he had done the one thing he vowed wouldn't let happen; let Edward get into a situation he couldn't get himself out of.

The Lt. Colonel didn't even want to imagine whatever the hell it was Edward had conjured up in his mind that forced him into the state he was in now. But apparently, it was enough to make even one of the strongest people he knew break. No matter how much he badmouthed the boy, it was true.

He took a sip from the glass, emptying it for the fifth time that night, automatically reaching for the bottle, though his hand only caught air. He turned around abruptly, still managing to sustain the majority of his balance.

"You know, you could have at least invited me to the party, Roy. You're getting quite careless," Hughes remarked, quietly pouring himself a drink, the last of the bottle's contents falling into his almost over-filled glass. He took a sip, his hazel eyes never leaving the stare of the onyx ones that were now fixed on him.

"What a pleasant surprise, Maes. I figured you'd be home by now, nestled in bed with your wife and daughter. What grants me the the privilege of this visit?" the intoxicated man inquired, a smirk slipping across his visage.

The Major couldn't help but let a sad smile strike his face, though inwardly, he could hear the pain hidden away in the Flame Alchemist's voice. Obviously, the man still hadn't forgiven himself.

"Let's just say I had a long day. Which reminds me." He paused to take a drink of the brown liquid, catching the curious glance Mustang was sending him out of the corner of his eye. "There were some remains found a few weeks ago in shallow grave, a few miles south of the derailment site. Well, they were sent here for identification purposes, and it turns out that they were that of Ian Westin. I'm sure you recall his little 'reign of terror' a few years back."

"The alchemist who ran a muck transmuting anything he could get his hands on, including half the monuments and a few of the citizens in Central. Yes, I believe I can recollect, but what's he got to do with anything?" the question parted the Lt. Colonel's lips, an eyebrow arching with partial disinterest.

"Well, as it turns out, there were burns marks on the bottom of his boots, and also various pieces of material found on them as well. Someone put two and two together and samples taken from the derailment site were compared with the materials found on the man's remains. They were a match."

Hughes finished the glass, sitting it down on the table.

"So the whole incident was purely coincidental," Mustang stated, setting down his glass as well, relief hidden deep within his hardened features.

"Yep. So it seems. Wrong place at the wrong time," Maes replied, letting out a quiet sigh before meeting Roy's slightly dazed expression. "Hey, by the way, when's the last time you visited Edward? Alphonse tells me it's been a while."

Hughes last statement sent the other man out of his stupor, immediately avoiding the Major's gaze.

"I've been busy," he responded causally, reaching for his floor length trench coat, slipping it on as Maes watched, determined to break the facade his best friend was hiding behind.

"Right, well, I was going to check in on them tomorrow, and I thought maybe you'd like to come with me, if you had time, that is." Inwardly, he knew how the other man was going to reply to the invitation, but he couldn't help but try.

"I have a meeting with the Furher tomorrow, so I won't be able to engage in any activity other than that and whatever else he has planned." He continued to keep his far-off gaze one step ahead of Maes', it now on the floor as he crossed the room to the door. "Perhaps the day after." And with that, he exited the room, leaving the Major to himself and an empty bottle of Scotch.

And a whole night to prepare his little speech about how the Lt. Colonel wasn't going to be able to make it in to see Edward again.

**(1) An estimated date that took place before Trisha fell ill. It has no real value. :)**

**Author's note : ...I can't believe I actually got thirty reviews for the last chapter. I just can't thank you all enough. You all are so wonderful to me, and I appreciate the support and reviews enormously.**

**I really hope this chapter lived up to any expectations you all had for it(even though there was ZERO action in it). I apologize for taking so long to update. For two weeks in a row, I was stuck working 50+hours per week, and I don't even want to know what's going to happen in the weeks to come. **

**Seriously though, thank you all for being so patient and listening to my rambling. Many, many THANKS goes to Twilight-Cullen, Roy-Fan-33, DarkAmber112, Arktos, Shatter Mirror01, Akamori-chan, queenstrudel, Legendary Chimera, iceprincess421, CrystalMind, JChrys, Hitokiri Musei, ssj2raider, totallyinlovewithed, Flashlight Maniac, Surien san, marufu-chan, BishiGirl, EagleBlaze, BlackHalliwell, Edshrimp, Mistress of Darkness, Aemila Rose, Karlykitten, Harryswoman, Bloody Sword Alchemist, XNightRoseX, Night Fox Hiten, ThePatheticWriter, Mistress of the Night5, and EVERY single one of you who has left a review or put me on a list. I deeply, deeply appreciate it. :D**

**And one more thing. I hate to say it, everyone, but I do believe this story only has a few chapters(if that) left. HOWEVER, there will be a sequel, that much I can say. And I'm indecisive about one factor; where it shall take place. I've already decided the main parts, and the fact that it will take place in the post-movie period; but I know how quite a few fans didn't quite care for the ending, especially how they wound up in our world. So, I'm asking all of you to leave in your review whether or not you'd want it set in Amestris anyway, or in our world. I'm willing to do both, so let me know. ;)**

**--Haunted Obsidian**


	25. Where the Streets Have No Name

**Title : Whispers of a Nightmare**

**Genre : Anime/Manga**

**Category : Full Metal Alchemist**

**Disclaimer : Nope, this one belongs to someone else as well. **

**Summary : Takes place after the incident with Nina. Something's wrong with Ed, and Al just can't quite figure out what it is. Serious situations and angst ensue.**

**Warnings : Angst, mild language, violence, and other issues that shall go unnamed for now. I don't want to give away too much of the plot just yet, now do I? ;)**

**Rating : T **

**Chapter 25 : Where the Streets Have No Name**

He'd stopped counting the days by now, judging they kept turning into weeks. Every time he turned around, another month went rolling by, and before long, a certain State Alchemist's thirteenth birthday had crept upon them.

But Edward's state hadn't changed. There had been one moment of hope, a few weeks back. The blonde had moved his fingers, and made what sounded like a whimpering noise, Al's hope nearly skyrocketing through the roof; but the episode passed, and soon things went back to being uneventful, as they had been.

After losing what little happiness he had managed to obtain, Alphonse resorted to being the solitary suit of armor once again, keeping constant watch at his older brother's bedside, never once leaving the boy; silently thankful for once that he was actually just an empty shell. He probably wouldn't have survived if he consisted of flesh and bones.

He sat there, sitting up straight, his gauntlets positioned gently on his metal knees. The distinct sound of Edward's breathing filtered through his hearing, the eleven year old having trained himself to memorize the sound and its patterns, careful to know when it changed. Hell, even when it stayed the same.

His soul-filled eyes took in the sight they did every day, a pale and sickly looking Ed, laying helplessly beneath a sea of sheets and blankets, the cold weather seeping into the room and swallowing it whole, taking his scrawny body along with it.

It seemed that no matter how many times the younger boy request that the heat get turned up, Edward still managed to remain cold, a fact that was proven true by his other visitors.

Hawkeye had slipped in two to three times a week, checking on the both of them and seeing if anything had changed. She always apologized for the Colonel's absence, citing his promotion and the amount of new responsibilities that came with it.

But Alphonse had other theories for the man's disappearance; guilt, fear, and a handful of other things that perhaps could truly be the cause. But he never once vocalized his opinions to Mustang's subordinate, the boy still not understanding how the woman could claim the Colonel to be human.

_It's his fault Ed's in here anyway. _

The eleven year old had tried all he could to reason with himself, but the bitter thoughts continued to cross his mind, whether he liked it or not.

_But without his help, we never would have made it this far..._

Frustration was becoming a constant emotion within Al's soul, ultimately knowing it was their fault and their fault alone that brought them there. But for the life him, he just couldn't admit it.

A breathless sigh emanated from the armor just as the door to the room creaked open, emitting a trace amount of light into the din that seemingly enveloped the room. Al's helmet turned immediately, his soul-filled eyes falling upon that of Maes Hughes, a saddened smile tipping up the corners of the man's mouth.

"Hello, Major," the boy offered as politely as possible, though for some reason, his voice sounded almost weary, tired.

Hughes was quiet for a moment before he replied, letting the boy's distant voice circulate through his head before answering.

"How's it going?" he asked, walking over to the bed. His hazel eyes glanced down at Edward, taking note that the boy was as still and as innocent looking as the last time he had been there. His brow narrowed slightly, seeing that the teen's golden hair was becoming more dull with each visit, making his skin look even more transparent than it actually was.

"The same, I guess. Nothing's changed, if that's what you're asking." It was in a tone that could only be described as deadpan, the boy obviously taking nothing for granted any longer.

"I see," Hughes admitted quietly, pushing a stray hair out of Edward's face. "Since he's obviously not going anywhere," he started, nodding towards the comatose boy, trying his best to get a laugh out of the eleven year old, even though he knew it was no use. "Why don't you and I go for a walk? You've gotta get out of here sometime."

"No, that's okay. I think I'd rather stay here for now," Alphonse replied, his gaze drifting back to his brother, the numbness of it all getting to him.

"Have you ever heard of the saying, 'A watched pot never boils?'" There was a glimmer in his hazel orbs as he spoke, finally peaking the interest of the suit of armor that had been seemingly made of stone since Edward had first come into the hospital.

Alphonse slowly stared back at the Major, confusion now entering his tone. "Well, yeah. Actually, my Mom used to say that a lot when Ed and I were boys. But usually when she did, we were just waiting for dinner to be done."

Hughes couldn't help but let out a chuckle at the boy's innocent enough answer, the smile turning into a grin.

"It mean's that you can keep sitting there watching him, letting the pain get the best of you, or you can let him wake up when the time is right and he's ready to." He paused, adjusting his glasses as he glanced back at Edward. "Whatever it is that's going on inside his mind...isn't for us to understand, not yet anyway." He looked back at Alphonse, sensing a change in the child's soul-consumed orbs. "So, how about that walk? Fifteen minutes, thirty tops. Come on, don't make me pry you out of that chair. That is, if you're not already stuck to it," he tried upon seeing Al's reluctance.

There was a sigh, followed by the sound of the floor creaking as the eleven year old stood to his metallic feet. "I guess a little walk couldn't hurt."

Hughes watched as the boy leaned over the bed, obviously whispering something into his older brother's ears. Al stood quietly, stealing one last glance at Ed before following Maes out of the room.

The moment they exited the building, Al couldn't help but gasp, his helmet turning from side to side as he took in the sight of a snow covered Central, icicles hanging from the hibernating trees. The whole city glistened, a few flurries still spiraling from the sky, landing on metal flesh that couldn't melt it.

"It's...It's beautiful," he whispered, woe filling his tone. His eyes flickered, nearly dimming as thoughts of Edward raced through his mind, instantly feeling bad because he was allowed to see the season that had apparently crept up on them, yet Ed was back in the cold hospital bed, unconscious and unknowing.

It wasn't fair.

"It—it looks like a picture on a postcard," the eleven year old murmured sadly, staring at the hint of twilight that was teasing the edge of the horizon. He paused, his glance drifting to the snow covered ground, a few footprints visible in the inch or so that had fallen. "It's Elysia's birthday today."

Maes knew what those words meant even before he had a chance to ask. "It's Edward's too." The man's voice was quiet, subtle. He took a seat on a nearby park bench, jamming his gloved hands into the pockets of the trench coat, tiny spirals of mist leaving his lips as he spoke. "He's strong, you know. One of the strongest kids I've ever seen. He'll pull through."

It was one thing to try and reassure a seven foot tall suit of armor that his older brother was going to be okay; but it was another trying to reassure an eleven year old boy who lost his mother, had no clue if his father was dead or alive, and had to watch his brother slowly deteriorate in a hospital right before his eyes.

The man sighed lightly, watching the boy quietly take a seat next to him, the steel gleaming in the white of the snow.

"I keep thinking that-" Al's voice quickly broke, tears leaking down an invisible face lost in the gate. "That he's going to open his eyes any minute and start rambling about how much he hates hospitals and doctors and that he's alright—" His voice was shaking dramatically, tumbling up and down faster than he could control it. "But...it's been so long...and...and nothing. What if—what if he doesn't wake up, Major? What if he just lays there until...until he dies?"

The lonely suit of armor slowly peered over at the man who had tears brimming in his eyes just listening to the boy speak.

Careful not to let his voice carry tremors as Al's had, he cleared his throat, sitting up straight and looking directly into the soul-filled eyes that were somehow managing to peer wearily at him."He's strong, Alphonse; and he has a wonderful protector at his side giving him the strength he needs to get through this. You know, even though his eyes are closed and his mind's somewhere else, he can still hear you when you speak. Have you tried to talk to him?"

Alphonse looked away, letting a mumble of, "a little," emanate from the steel flesh, his voice still shaking lightly. His metallic shoulders slumped as he hung his head, feeling oddly guilty for reasons beyond his knowing.

"He's not going to leave you, Al. Just think of it as a vacation," he joked, not even earning a snicker out of the so-called "grown-up" that sat at his side.

"He was in so much pain, Major. I mean, he kept denying it, but I could see it in his eyes. No matter what he said, I know he was hurting. And it didn't help that we weren't exactly getting along either—" He cut himself off, wanting to stop the words that were blurting out of his steel, but for some reason, it was like the dam had finally burst, forcing him to take account of his own feelings. "And he made me so mad, acting so stubborn and all, like nothing was wrong..." He started to sob, feeling worse yet minutely better by the second. "But it was...it was."

Without even the slightest hint of hesitation, Hughes wrapped his arms around the boy's somewhat frozen exterior, the bitter chill of the metal easily seeping through his clothes and numbing his skin; but for the moment, he was looking at a helpless child, albeit a lonely one at that. This boy wasn't the mature being that acted older than his older brother; no, this was the little boy who was stuck in an empty shell, attempting to make the best out of what little he and Edward truly had.

_Hell, they don't even have a home._

The thought struck him as strange but it was true, he recalled Alphonse telling him something of the sort, apparently accidentally letting it slip out of his metallic body, no doubt in front of the biggest secret keeper of them all.

"As soon as Ed wakes up and he's cleared, and this is only if you boys want, but you can come stay with us, for as long as you like. Or until Roy decides to send you two off again," he added with a slight roll of the eyes.

The quiet whimpering slowly tapered off, just as the snow had, a frozen breeze left in its place. The boy slowly lifted his helmet, soul-filled eyes suddenly looking like candles, containing such warmth that it radiated off of him, Hughes not even feeling winter's breath for the moment.

"You...you mean it?" Hughes had never heard the boy sound so young and innocent, his wind-chapped lips turning up slightly.

"Of course I do. Gracia would love to have you two there. And Elysia? Having her two big brothers there to play with and laugh at? She wouldn't miss it for the world," he said with a smile, the winter chill bringing involuntary tears to his eyes.

It took a moment for the boy to reply, his helmet responding before he did. "Sure, I'd like that a lot. And I'm pretty sure Ed would too." His voice was soft, yet it had regained its air of maturity, a burden and a gift at the same time for the boy.

"It's settled then. Oh, I almost forgot," the man said, reaching in his pocket and pulling out a small box, a red bow decorating its top. "Give this to Edward for me when he wakes up. Gracia picked it out, but I'm sure he'll like it nonetheless. I'll be back tomorrow, okay?" he said as he stood to his feet, appearing quite cold and in need of a large cup of coffee, or a fireplace; whichever he found first.

"Okay," Al slowly responded, standing to his feet as well, placing the box away for safe keeping. He watched the man flash him his trademark grin before he turned away, only making it about ten feet before the boy called out to him. The man turned back expectantly, his eyes gleaming in the street lights' glow, the smile still planted firmly across his lips.

"Thank you." The two words were quiet yet audible, making the hazel eyed man's grin grow even wider.

"I'll see you and Ed tomorrow." And with that, he started walking again, disappearing into the shadows of the streets where the light failed to shine.

"Yeah," Al mumbled, clanking softly as he made his way back to the hospital, prepared for another night of silence. "Happy Birthday, Brother..."

&&&&&

Hesitance tugged at the man's hand that was within inches of the door knob, his onyx orbs eying it reluctantly. Guilt flooded through him as he watched his fingers shake uncontrollably, not understanding why what he was about to do brought so much pain to him.

Hell, he'd visited his share of fallen and wounded soldiers, but for some ungodly reason, facing the one that lay just beyond the too white door seemed wrong, as though he knew he shouldn't be there. He should've just left the boy alone, but the nagging that his conscience did to him was becoming too much. Thus, bringing him to his destination on this bitter cold winter night.

Letting out the most silent of sighs, he opened the door, his head slowly lifting, dreading the sight that awaited him. It only took a second for his eye to meet it, even though the thirteen year old was seemingly buried under a mound of cottony material.

Tears of hate flashed before him, brimming at the cheeks that hadn't felt the saltine substance in years. Though the feeling wasn't for the child that lay less than ten feet away from him; no, it was for himself.

Blinking them away, he entered the solitary space, inwardly thanking Maes for more than likely dragging Alphonse from the room. There was no way he could face the both of them tonight, knowing that the younger of the two more than likely hated him by now and blamed him for the majority of all their problems. But that was to be expected; it was a child's way of coping with things that were out of their reach and frame of mind.

The Colonel's footsteps were heavy on the linoleum floor, dragging across it slowly but precisely, never forgetting the beat of the rhythm he had been trained to walk to.

The man stopped a few feet away from the boy's bedside, taking in the sight of the thirteen year old, taking note of the pallor of his skin; and how his body, with the exception of the automail, was probably more fragile than porcelain at the moment.

He almost lifted a hand to push back Edward's hair, but cut himself short, not letting his guard down completely. The man was there, and right now, that was the most important thing. He had to remind himself, Roy Mustang wasn't exactly the "mushy" type, as he so cordially recalled.

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and looked down, the dull floor coming into view. A few strands of hair brushed across his forehead, he not even bothering to push them away. His gaze became unfocused for a moment, the sound of Ed's breathing filtering through his ears. Roy looked up, watching the boy's chest slowly rise and fall, rhythmic in itself.

The man found himself completely detached yet paralyzed with silent grief, dismantling his conscience from the inside out.

He'd sent plenty of men to their deaths in war, fully knowing the consequences and the outcome; but strangely, he felt as though he'd practically sent Edward's to his as well. Though it was more or less a give and take situation; he gave Edward the opportunity to change things and the boy took the invitation without another thought. It was a responsibility they were both entitled to, though the Colonel even more so.

And almost regretfully, he accepted it.

And in doing so, it brought him to this place tonight.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, the thought of being somewhere else and drowning himself in alcohol rolled around; but that wouldn't be fair to himself or the kid. That much was true.

But he had came there to say something, and for the life of him, his vocal chords appeared to be out of order, rendering him silent in the already deathly still room. All he could do was stare guiltily at the youngest State Alchemist in the history of Amestris, his hardened visage transforming into that of a broken man, his jaw clenching tightly.

He didn't know how it had come down to this. No one person had ever had such an impact on him, and he still couldn't understand why this boy and his little brother did.

Perhaps it was because they were the only ones to have survived a human transmutation, failed or not. Or perhaps, it was the fact that they had no one else but each other, a fact that gave him all the more reason to silently protect them, though this time, it was clear he hadn't.

He had failed. And that pissed him off more than anything.

Apparently, there were firsts in everyone's life, including his.

A sarcastic smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, a mirthless laugh breaking through his grit teeth. His jet black hair fell further into his face, covering his onyx eyes in just the way Edward's golden locks covered his when he became embarrassed to show his feelings.

How ironic.

Maybe that was it. Maybe it was the fact that the boy actually reminded him of himself; stubborn beyond belief to the point of pissing other people off, selfish yet selfless in their own distorted way, and captivated by a science that could do almost anything, except bring people back to life, of course.

A faint memory surfaced in the depths of his mind, containing images and pictures he hadn't thought of in years. He was quite taken aback by the recollection, though that feeling was purely within, the look on his face now resorting back to being as emotionless as possible. He couldn't take the chance of someone walking in and seeing him breaking into a million little pieces all over a comatose child. He'd be the laughing stock of the military, in his eyes anyway.

But it was there, clear and vivid in his eyes, they forcing him to watch a ghost of his past he'd prefer better left forgotten.

_Rain pounded on the roof of the house, clapping loudly against the shingles that looked as though they could blow away at any second, courtesy of the gusting wind. Lightning flashed over head, lighting up the grey clouds, surrounding them in brilliant arrays of purples and blues. _

_Underneath the storm, the house was quiet, seemingly empty from the outside, though it was a different story on the inside. _

_Tree branches knocked insistently on the only window in the small bedroom, threatening entry if they were not allowed in soon. But the noise fell on deaf ears, the two people in the room a world away from the commotion that was going around them._

_A young man sat next to the bed, his jet black bangs hanging carelessly in his onyx eyes, the woman laying in the bed before him telling him over and over again that if one would look close enough, they would actually be able to see tiny but noticeable lakes of navy surrounded by the ebony color. _

_The young man could only give a half-hearted smile at the words, continuing to tell the woman that she needed to rest, but she wouldn't have it._

"_I'm fine, son. You should know better," she stated, the sound of her voice equaling the volume of a gentle breeze, lost amidst the cackling thunder and howling wind. _

"_You need your rest," he repeated, glancing up into the crystal clear blue eyes that stared back at him, the woman smiling even through all the pain that was radiating through her gaunt and broken body. _

"_You sound like your father," she mumbled, a coughing fit coming over the woman, forcing her to squeeze the young man's hand tighter, her blonde locks flying carelessly around her face as her body continued to tremble._

"_Mom." His voice was gentle, fearful; but it held a warning tone within in it, his mother choosing not to hear it._

_She gazed up at him, letting out a choked laugh. "You never will change, will you? Even when you were little, you always seemed to forget that I was the one that was supposed to tell you what to do, not the other way around." She paused, her eyes slowly drifting towards the ceiling. "After I'm gone, you're going to leave, aren't you?" Her tone was much more serious this time, she unable to meet the young man's questioning orbs. _

"_Mom, I thought we weren't going to discuss this again." He meant for it to be a statement, and a firm one at that, but once again, she had him doubting whatever motives and plans of action he had assembled for...for later._

"_Roy, he's going to be so lonely without you. Why can't you just try to get to know him, to understand him? He's not that bad of a man. You know he isn't," she pleaded, her crystalline orbs traveling back to him, glimmering with a haze only seen before one's final departure. _

_It hurt too much to look at her now. He forced his eyes to the hardwood floor, holding back the wall of tears that was ready to crumble at any moment. The young alchemist could hear his voice trembling even before he spoke. _

"_He hasn't wanted to know me for eighteen years, so why should he even try to now?" Roy asked through grit teeth, taking in a sharp breath, avoiding the hurt look that was presently plastered across his mother's face. "I'm sorry, but I can't." He shook his head furiously, glancing into the orbs whose life was starting to recede. "Mom..."_

"_Just...just promise me you won't forget him, Roy. No matter what you think...he loves you...After all, he's only human." A trace of a smile graced her lips as she stared into the young man's eyes one last time before hers slowly closed, one last breath leaving her lungs before all was silent. _

_He stared at her for a long moment, his hand still interwoven tightly with hers. The eighteen year old could feel cool rivers of saltine trickling down his cheeks as the realization hit him that she was gone. Her skin, once so warm and soothing was now cold to the touch, the life slowly filtering out of her. _

"_Mom...Mom..." He couldn't control the shaking of his voice anymore, it was just too much. The only thing that shook him out of his stupor was the sound of the bedroom door creaking, his head immediately jerking at the noise, his eyes catching the last glimpse of a shadow quickly disappearing down the hallway._

_He stood immediately, the chair nearly toppling over behind him. Anger surged through him as his legs propelled him forward, his footfalls echoing heavily on the hallway floor, catching up to the shadow that had obviously tried to disappear._

_Without even thinking, he reached out, grabbing a hold of the man's shoulder, his other hand threatening to snap. His entire body was shaking, the emotions that had built their fortress within him slowly starting to attack his bloodstream. _

_He was frozen, staring into the eyes of the man who helped bring him into this world, though at the moment, he could hardly care less. _

_Roy's teeth were clenched tightly, the action visible through his skin. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear his breath leaving his lungs, his chest rising up and down faster than he cared for; but that wasn't his main focus, no, it was the person standing in front of him._

"_What are you gonna do? Snap me to death?" The tone was sarcastic though serious, the man's navy eyes burning into the younger one's, his jaw clenched as well._

_It only took a moment for the scent of alcohol to hit him, and that in itself only sent the eighteen year old further off the edge. _

"_I will never understand how that woman put up with you all these years," Roy muttered through a tight-lipped mouth, fire burning in his onyx orbs. _

_The older man laughed at the comment, tears hidden far behind the alcohol-induced facade he was wearing. "The same could be said for you too, 'son.'" He made sure to emphasize the last word, knowing that it would crawl its way underneath the younger man's skin. _

_A pained yet angered smile crossed Roy's lips, his fingers clenching the cottony material of his father's shirt. "Don't you ever—ever call me son, you bastard." It was a low whisper, but definitely audible, and rang consistently throughout his father's ears. _

_The fake smile immediately washed off the older man's face, anger electrocuting his veins even more so than his son's. Before the younger of the two knew it, he was being slammed against the wall, the breath knocking out of him. _

"_I am, and always will be your father whether you like it or not," the man stated, his words coming faster than Roy was willing to hear them. "And you will respect me as long as you're living in this house. Now I know you think that you're almighty and powerful just because you can do that alchemy crap, but you are nothing more than a child in my eyes, boy." _

"_The woman you've been married to for the past twenty years just died and all you can do is chastise me for the things that I do or don't do?" the eighteen year old shot back, frustration and pain clear in his voice. Furiously, he pushed away from the older man, knocking him back into the adjacent wall. "I hope you burn in hell, Rian." And with that, he headed for the door, not even bothering to take a second look at the older man, letting the rain pour on him as he slammed the door. _

That was the last time he'd ever stepped foot into that house; and he hadn't thought about it since. He'd turned nineteen the next day and bought a ticket to Central, one Maes Hughes accompanying him. The rest was history.

He hadn't talked to his father since either, but perhaps...

Shaking his head, he glanced up through his bangs at the still boy, tears in his eyes as the vow he took the moment the thirteen year old became a State Alchemist ran through his thoughts.

Without a word, he turned slowly and made his way to the door. With the same hesitance he had going in, he placed his hand on the knob, letting himself out.

He made his way down the hall, unable to hear the change in Edward's breathing or the words that were suddenly forcing their way out of his mouth.

&&&&&

The day had come and gone. History had repeated itself, though whether or not the child chose to realize that truth was upon him. He'd watched the light fade from the woman's eyes, and before long, it had disappeared.

He and Alphonse hadn't managed to get their father to come back, not even for the funeral, making the boy's spite for him grow even more.

Longing and sadness ate away at him, though he tried his hardest to cheer up the younger brother who was secretly afraid of the plan they'd come up with. Only for some reason, the ten year old knew they weren't supposed to do it. But thinking things through wasn't quite one of Edward's strong points, a fact he was reminded of day in and day out.

But at the moment, that was exactly what he was doing.

The sun was starting to set, colors of red and orange and gold blazing across the sky, casting their eerie rays upon the boy as he stood, his gaze transfixed on his mother's tombstone. His eyes watered wearily as he reread her name over and over again, memorizing the way it was carved into the stone and how there was the tiniest bit of granite missing just below the letter I in her name.

A gentle, cool breeze blew past him, lifting his golden locks ever so slightly, a few stray strands drifting across his face. He shivered involuntarily, closing his eyes as the wind began to howl in his ears. The ten year old wrapped his arms around himself, the chill of the air settling in, his thin t-shirt and pants not able to sustain the warmth that he needed.

The crunching of leaves behind him stirred Edward from his thoughts, his head jerking immediately in the direction of the sound. His eyes widened upon seeing the intruder of his solitude, shock electrocuting his system.

He nearly fell to his trembling knees at the sight, not able to believe the person who was staring back at him. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry, or charge at the man.

"Hello, Edward." The voice of the man who had disappeared years ago drifted through his hearing, only making everything that surrounded him feel even more surreal and dreamlike.

"What are you doing here?" The ten year old had meant to sound more threatening, but his vulnerability far surpassed any menacing tone he could try to muster at the moment. The wind blew against his face once more, making the tears that were already steadfast in his golden orbs even more apparent. He immediately turned away from the man, ashamed of the saltine liquid that was trying to pursue a path down his already wet cheeks.

"I was almost going to ask you that, until I remembered," the man replied with such a casual air that it pissed the boy off even more. "I...I heard what happened." His voice immediately carried an unsure tone, his once vibrant golden locks now dull and bland, even in the fading rays of the sunset. "Edward...I'm...I'm sorry."

"It's a little late for that," Ed returned sharply, his eyes narrowing in anger. He stood there for a minute, listening to the man's saddened sigh pass through his ears, not able to offer up one bit of forgiveness. "So what, did you come back hoping you could be in our lives just because she wasn't anymore? Is that it?" He was screaming now, the tears he had tried so hard to hide trickling down his cheeks with lightning force.

"No, that's not it, son-"

"Don't call me something that I'm not!" His chest was rising and falling quickly, his throat burning from the excessive volume it was being forced to use. The ten year old's golden orbs were now burning into the man's who stood in front of him, not a trace of love searing through his veins at the moment. His balled hands were now at his sides, shaking in anger.

"Edward...please..." Hoenhiem's voice was softer now, woe filling his tone. The man's shoulders slumped in defeat, years of life away from the home he had helped create obviously taking their toll on him.

"What? Did you expect me to be happy that you were here? That you finally came back? The only reason why we ever wanted you here in the first place was because maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't have died." He paused, his brow narrowing even more. "But she did, and it was all because of you!" He was pointing a finger now, albeit a quavering one, directly at his father.

The man gave a tired smile, shaking his head. "It wouldn't have mattered had I been here or not, Ed. Nothing could have saved her, and you know that." There was honesty in his tone, but the ten year old was deaf to it, only able to hear the screaming voice in the back of his head that was telling him that the man was wrong and that it was all his fault.

"You're lying! I know you are! If you had been here...she wouldn't have given up." The boy's voice broke upon the last few words, his head hanging, his golden orbs drifting to the ground, saltine liquid falling helplessly as well.

"As much as you think that's true, Edward, it's not. There's nothing that I could have done to bring your mother back, and there's nothing that you can do either." The last statement took the boy by surprise, his eyes widening in fear.

"How do you know?" The words shot out of his mouth faster than he could control them, immediately regretting them but knowing it was too late to do anything about it.

"Look, Ed, that's—that's why I'm here. I know you what you're going to do, and it's not going to work. Not now, not this time, or the time after that. You can keep punishing yourself, or you can..."

"Snap out of it."

The tears stopped falling, the boy immediately gaping as he watched his father transform into that of a dark-haired man wearing a military uniform, a State Alchemist's pocket watch hanging at his side. He looked so familiar...but how could this be happening? His father was just standing there...

"Who the hell are you?" Edward cried out, turning from side to side, any trace of Hoenhiem vanishing along with the setting sun.

The dark-haired man smiled, looking awfully smug as he did so. "Come on Full Metal, you honestly don't remember me?" he questioned with mock hurt in his tone.

"My father...he was just...right there..." Edward's eyes widened as he spoke, fear racing up his spine as his small body moved, trying to understand what the hell was going on. This wasn't how he remembered it.

"Edward Elric, the youngest State Alchemist in the history of the State," the words parted the man's lips as though he were reciting them from an old history book or something of the sort.

The blonde's face fell slightly, his brow arching in confusion. He backed away, the dead leaves crumbling underneath his footfalls. "I don't know what you're talking about," the boy responded, continuing to feel himself move towards the edge of the cemetery, his eyes darting back and forth as though he were under attack.

An amused expression fell across the military man's visage, his onyx eyes twinkling in the din of twilight. "After you and your brother Alphonse performed a human transmutation on your mother and failed, you lost an arm and a leg-"

"Stop! I don't know what you're talking about! Leave me alone!" the ten year old screamed, his hands immediately covering his ears, disbelief entering his system.

"—and your brother lost his entire body. You saved him by fixing his soul to a suit of armor using a blood seal, using your own body as material. You then received artificial limbs by way of automail, and once your recovery was completed—"

Edward was near tears, his face contorted into a fear-filled visage, everything that the man was saying sounding so eerily familiar and true, though it just couldn't be possible and he knew it. There was just no way...

"We went to Central, and you became a State Alchemist, Brother." The voice no longer belonged to the military man; no, now Alphonse was speaking, only he didn't carry on the appearance of a nine year old boy. Instead, his voice was coming from a large suit of armor, a vessel obviously too big to be carrying a child inside.

Edward froze upon seeing the sight, tremors wracking his small body defenseless. All at once, it was as though a levy had broken, releasing thoughts and memories that had long been stored away. His eyes were overloaded with images of he and his brother and a little girl...

"Nina..." He could hear himself whisper her name, all the while knowing that everything that was being said in front of him was true. Edward shook his head, a picture of the little girl's remains splattered viciously against a brick wall. "No!" he screamed, backing away from Alphonse and taking off. He could hear the clanking of metal coming from behind, but he just couldn't face it. Not now.

Tears continued to race down his cheeks as he ran, tripping over crumbling tombstones and tree roots, the wind screaming like a banshee in through his eardrums. Though as the scenery flashed passed him, it changed, morphing into what looked like the city of Central.

It was all too familiar in his eyes.

But now, it seemed as though he were on autopilot, his legs carrying him past snow-covered streets and into that of a large building, a hospital he realized, as his feet forced him through the doors. Before long, he was racing down a hallway, coming to a stop at room 606.

The door slowly creaked open, revealing to the boy, himself; and the military man he had seen just seconds before, Mustang. Only this time, the man wasn't wearing his trademark smirk, and as Edward moved in closer, he saw the tears that were now falling from his eyes.

Without saying a word, the ten year old moved to the other side of the bed, staring first down at himself, then back up at Roy. They both looked so pathetic it wasn't even funny. But the irony of the situation was nothing compared to the realization and truth as to why he was there in the first place.

Kiase, Renégauld—it all made sense now. So, this was the result of his nightmares.

_Go figure. _

He studied himself, painstakingly forcing his golden orbs to take in what he had done to himself and others. He'd actually made the Colonel cry.

_Wait a minute, am I dying? _

Panic struck him the moment the man exited the room, now fearing that was the last time he'd ever lay eyes on him.

_No, this isn't how it's supposed to be! _

"Wait! Don't go! Mustang! Wait!" he cried out, running to the door, but it was too late. He watched in horror as the room and everything in sight was covered by darkness so thick it took his breath away.

Literally.

**Author's note : Hey, I'm not dead! Sure as hell felt like it though...; ) First of all, I want to apologize for taking so freakin' long to update. It feels like it's been ages instead of two weeks. Secondly, thank you all so much for your continuous support, and there was no way I'd be able to keep writing if I didn't get it in one way or another. Your reviews, your feedback, your comments and PMs—everything, really, THANK YOU all. **

**I'm sorry that I couldn't respond to everyone this time around. I've been constricted on time and therefore, it's left me practically zero time for the internet. So, I would like to say THANK YOU to deltana, Saint of the Discord, Legendary Chimera, ThePatheticWriter, Harryswoman, Bloody Sword Alchemist, Akamori-chan, Eagleblaze, DarkAmber112, Mistress of the Night5, Night Fox Hiten, Hitokiri Musei, Flashlight Maniac, hyperdude, ssj2raider, Karlykitten, JChrys, Aemilia Rose, Roy-Fan-33, marufu-chan, Shattered Mirror01, Blonde Skye, CrystalMind, XNightRoseX, queenstrudel, Mistress of the Darkness, karikado, and EVERY single one of you who has put me on a list. Seriously, everyone, it means a lot to me.**

**It looks like there's going to be one chapter left guys, so I hope you enjoyed this one. I'm hoping I can update before Christmas, but at this point with work and everything else, I'm not so sure it'll be possible. BUT, it will be before the new year, that much I can say. **

**I hope this chap will suffice until the next one, and if I don't get a chance to say it before the next update, MERRY CHRISTMAS, HAPPY HANUKKAH, HAPPY KWANZA and felis navidad! **

**If I missed any one's other form of celebrating, HAPPY HOLIDAYS! **


	26. The End of the Innocence

**This is the part where I normally put all that informational stuff, but since it's the last chapter, I decided to do things differently. First of all, I apologize for taking a week and a half longer than what I originally stated to post this, but time has been trying so...**

**I'd like to thank each and every single one of you who has reviewed or put me on an alert or list or whatever. THANK YOU!!! ;D So, here goes : **

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**Seriously, without all of your support, I probably couldn't have finished this story let alone fathom the idea of a sequel, so THANK YOU ALL:D **

**I only hope this chapter sufficed. ;)**

**Chapter 26 : The End of the Innocence**

The darkness was momentary, but it was soon replaced with a faint glow, giving off the impression of tunnel vision. Within seconds, the glow turned into a white haze, leaving Edward standing before the gate he had seen less than three years before. Only this time, instead of several pairs of eyes staring back at him as the doors creaked open, he was met with the sight of the failed transmutation, still in progress.

Immediate feelings of fear, guilt, and regret rushed through the boy's system, his shocked golden orbs instantly watering as he was pushed into the scene, screaming just as he did that night.

Helplessly, he watched as Alphonse's body was taken away, fading into the malevolent purplish hues that were spinning around them faster than the speed of light. He reached out, feeling excruciating pain as his leg was taken from him once again, though the only thought flowing through his mind was getting the nine year old back, even though he knew it wasn't going to be possible.

With tears raging down his distraught cheeks, he made the marks on himself just as he had done before, using whatever limb the gate would take as payment to get his little brother's soul back. And as history repeated itself in his mind, he watched in morbid horror as he was once again taken back to the gate, only as the doors presented themselves before him, another scene from his life flashed before him.

Only this time, he was on the inside looking out.

He was cast into the orange and yellow flames that awaited him on the other side, confusion wracking his soul. Frantically he searched around the room, looking for a way to escape the heat that was lapping at his skin as well as his lungs; but he soon realized, there was no escape.

It only took a second for him to recognize his surroundings, and the moment he did, he knew why he was there.

Without thinking, he ran to the window that overlooked the path that led up to their house, falling miserably to the flame-soaked floor as he realized there was no left leg or right arm to retain his equilibrium.

His eyes closed in pain, feeling his life's blood pouring in rivers from his wounds; but he had to see, just to make sure.

The boy's nails scratched the floor, the screeching noise entering his ears just as he made his way to the window, hearing the wood and glass popping around him as he painstakingly reached his destination.

Dizziness flared through his bloodstream, wracking his head almost senseless as he pulled himself up, blood smearing across the window pane as he did so. Edward peered out of the glass, the flames dancing hungrily in its reflection as he watched a large suit of armor and a boy cloaked in black and a red coat walk away from the burning embers, neither looking back at the sight of the destruction.

Edward could feel the tears leaking down his cheeks even through the heat, but instead of feeling panic or the urge to get out of the fire, a sense of calm made its way through him as his body gave into the pain, slowly sliding into the comforting darkness that was now awaiting him as he slid to the floor.

He understood now. It all finally made sense.

But why it took him so long to realize that was lost on him.

The thirteen year old could feel his lips curl slightly upward as his body descended, flowing peacefully through the familiar velvetine darkness, the river of satin ebony carrying him to where he was supposed to be.

The pain from the wounds was gone, vanishing instantly as recognition made its way through his brain. He felt no fear or anger at the moment either, everything finally made sense to him now.

The past six months of his life—he had relived them for a reason.

In just three short years, he had managed to forget what he once had. Of course, he was reminded every day that he had lost his brother's body, let alone his arm and leg. But that wasn't it—he'd forgotten how peaceful it was just to sit back for a moment and enjoy the sunset, something he and Al hadn't done since they were little.

He'd missed the ability to be free, to run through the fields that surrounded their childhood home for miles on end. He'd missed everything, but in the weirdest of ways, he received a second chance to remember; to cherish what he thought he'd lost years ago.

The thirteen year old was ready to go back; but for some reason, the darkness his small body was shrouded in wasn't ending. Edward was steady drifting into the vast sea of nothingness, and this time, there was no light at the end of the tunnel.

Panic began to grip at his heart, fear slowly creeping through his veins. Something wasn't right—this wasn't the peacefulness he'd been longing for.

The slight smile that had seconds before slid easily across his lips disappeared, his mouth widening in horror. Though as he tried to scream, to yell—anything, he was drowned in absolute silence, his vocal cords apparently deemed out of order by a force greater than him.

His limbs flailed helplessly through the air, his golden locks flying astray across his face. But as the blonde strands formed a veil in front of his equally vibrant orbs, something emerald caught his attention. He froze immediately, his breath holding steady in his throat.

Within seconds, he hit something, his body slamming into an invisible floor, knocking the air straight out of his lungs, pain searing through his entire nervous system. With his head spinning frivolously, he pushed himself up, labored breaths escaping out of his lips. It only took a second before an all too familiar voice made its way through his ears.

"Did you really think it was going to be that simple...Edward?" She grinned at him, yellow teeth visible through her widening mouth. The woman hovered over him, her bony fingers slowly reaching for his throat. "I've been waiting for you," she stated in a hushed whisper, her eyes glimmering with such perfected hate it almost burned to even glance in them.

Edward recoiled at the sight, tumbling backwards and falling straight to the polished obsidian floor, it seemingly moving like a river underneath of him. His fingers slid across it as he tried to get a grip on something to hoist himself back up, but the task was fruitless as the slippery surface repelled his attempts.

The woman glided easily towards him, her grin stretching even farther across her already too thin lips, the feat now seeming almost impossible, making her skin appear plastic as fine lines surrounded the disturbing gesture.

The teenager visibly cringed as her quiet cackle of a laugh echoed through his ears, the hair on the back of his neck now standing on end. Though he tried to ignore it, it crept into his ear drums, nearly forcing paralysis on his nerves.

"You're not real, you're not real," he muttered, sweat pouring down his distraught brow as he finally realized the clanking that was continuing to etch its way through his head was coming from him. He glanced down, seeing now that his right arm was made up of automail.

_You've got a chance. Don't blow it._

He stopped struggling and turned to face her, inwardly praying that this nightmare would end soon. Preferably sooner than later, at least.

Surprise instantly surged across her features, and even though the expression was quick and fleeting, Ed still caught it, giving him a burst of motivation he hadn't felt in quite some time. Within seconds, he'd made it to his feet, the woman's emerald orbs on him the entire time.

"Just because you're standing now, doesn't mean you will be once I'm done with you." He could tell by the tone of her voice that the statement was more than just a threat, but he could no longer show the fear that had been all too apparent in his golden orbs. He wasn't ready to die yet, especially not by her hand.

"That's what you think," he replied almost instantaneously, a mischievous grin turning up the corners of his lips. He could feel his body tense, preparing for a blow just in case his body deceived him.

But it was his mind that was ultimately trying to destroy him.

&&&&&

Lonely, clanking footsteps made their way down the dim corridor, their owner slowly making his way to the quiet room that awaited him down the hall. Soul-filled eyes that had been trained on the floor since watching one Maes Hughes exit his vision glanced up, a lone figure making its way towards him.

Alphonse almost hesitated in his step, realizing that the shadowed person had just exited Ed's room. With his interest immediately peaked, he sped up, the clanking growing louder as he made his way closer to where his older brother lay.

Panic flooded through his soul, a strange paranoid fear spiraling inside the suit of armor that had more than picked up its pace, nearly racing down the hallway. Something just didn't feel right, and that fact continued to nag at him until he was standing in front of the stranger, only to realize that it was in fact, Colonel Mustang.

Luckily, the partially inebriated man had seen the boy coming and had stepped out of his way, just to be safe. With onyx eyes that held curious pools of navy within them, Mustang stared up at the eleven year old, highly interested in his reason for the near stampede.

"Is there something wrong, Alphonse?" he questioned, the dark circles under his eyes and paleness of his visage more than apparent now in the fluorescent light.

The boy was struck speechless for a moment, staring at the poor state the Flame Alchemist had descended into. He couldn't quite remember a time within the past year that he'd ever seen the man that way. He'd always appeared so smug and calm and collected, never...like that.

A twinge of guilt pierced his soul, Al immediately feeling bad for the accusations and assumptions he had made about the man he in reality hardly knew anything about. Without so much as a second thought, and feeling strangely like Ed, he mumbled, "I'm sorry."

The two words immediately transformed the expression on the man's face from weary to taken aback. His brow narrowed in confusion as his lips turned slightly upwards, somewhat amused by the boy's sudden apology.

"For what?" Mustang responded with what sounded almost like a light laugh, but it easily could've been mistaken for a scoff.

Al's helmet hung for a moment before he tipped it back up, making eye contact with the man. "For—"

His attempts at a full-fledged explanation were cut short as a scream erupted from Edward's room, that sudden nagging fear immediately coming back to haunt him.

"Ed!" the shout emanated out of the suit of armor, his heavy steps making their way towards his older brother's room, Mustang in tow. "Brother!" he couldn't help but yell as he pushed open the door to Edward's room, his soul-filled eyes glimmering as he caught sight of the thirteen year old, his face obviously contorted in pain, his golden eyes covered by tightly closed lids.

Two pairs of footsteps rushed to the thirteen year old's bedside, Al immediately reaching for one of his brother's hands, trying desperately to confine at least one of his flailing limbs.

"What's wrong with him? Is he dying?" the words poured from the steel suit, sounding innocently young, and too damned scared.

Mustang glanced up at the eleven year old, catching the shimmer that resonated through his soul-filled orbs, a feeling of his own tepid fear surging through his veins. Mustering as much patience and calmness in his voice as he could, he stared up at Alphonse and replied, "No, I don't think so. It's more than likely there's something going on mentally that we don't know about."

"You mean, like a nightmare?" There was still a heightened sense of fear in the eleven year old's tone, but listening to the older man's deep voice was slightly comforting. He loosened his grip on Ed's hand, but not too much. Even if it was hurting the older boy, he just couldn't let go.

"Yes, only due to the fact that he's been in a comatose state for the past six months, he's more susceptible into believing that whatever he's going through is real. It looks as though he's coming out of it though." The last sentence was voice lower than the rest, the Colonel not wanting to get the preteen's hope up just yet. But the moment the words left his mouth, he could see the sudden flare of happiness entertain the youngest Elric's eyes.

"Brother! Brother, wake up! It's okay to wake up! Nothing's going to hurt you! I promise!" Al tried to stir the still pain-stricken teen, but it was no use. The spools of golden had yet to retain their color, or open for that matter.

Mustang moved to silence the boy, but lowered his hand, second thoughts entering his system.

_Perhaps it just might work this time..._

&&&&&

"You're standing awfully tall for someone that's fairly small," she taunted, her emerald orbs flashing with an expression that could only be described as evil. Her lips tipped upwards once more, though it was quick, twitchy.

Anger immediately triggered nerves Edward hadn't felt in quite some time, but strangely, the feeling was welcome. For the first time since he'd come in contact with the woman, he wasn't afraid, just pissed off.

"Why don't you show me what you've got, you old bat," he returned, a delightfully devilish grin conquering his lips. He was starting to feel alive again, another feeling that had been seemingly long forgotten.

Before he could even blink, blue light surged across the black pool, aimed right for his legs. He blocked it quickly, clapping his hands without a second thought, blue hues emanating from them as well. The thirteen year old watched in semi-satisfaction as the alchemic reaction he created made its way to its target, easily knocking the woman off her feet and down onto the endless floor.

Without waiting for her retaliation, Edward clapped again, pressing his hands to the floor and sending another alchemic reaction towards Lydia LaShea. Electric blue light flew up around her, encasing her within its grasp, a cage forming around the woman, chains wrapping around her wrists, preventing any more alchemy to escape from her fingertips. Ed could hear her screams even before the task was complete, though inwardly satisfied at his feat.

"You won't forget me, Edward! You may think you've erased me, but you haven't! You haven't!" she shrieked, forcing the boy to wince as the sound of her nails scraping along the metal of the cage made its way into his ears. "I'll still be here! Whether you like it or not!"

The thirteen year old watched in silence as the weathered woman's face faded into the darkness, relieved that it was finally over. Letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, the alchemist ran his flesh hand across his forehead, though instead of seeing sweat as he pulled it away, he saw blood.

The sound of his heart resonated through his head, his pulse quickening as a noise invaded his ears. He could tell from the second he heard it that whatever _it_ was was wet, and coming directly towards him.

His eyes widened as they gazed past his crimson-colored hand only to focus in on a trail of blood that magically seemed to glow on the obsidian floor. Ed followed it slowly with fearful golden orbs, the confidence and fake show of cockiness he had put on just minutes before vanishing right along with his strength.

Nausea struck him instantaneously as the trail finally came to and end, though the _squishing_ noises didn't. Horror-struck, he gaped at the sight of Nina. The lower half of her body was missing, organs and tissue and dead skin dragging along behind her as she pulled her upper half towards Edward, tears glistening on her bleached cheeks. Her blue lips quavered in the sliver of light that was peering from the shadows of the room.

"Wittle big bwuthor, help me! Pwease! Edword!" Her tiny voice was quivering, almost as badly as what was left of her body was. "I'm so scared! Pwease, wittle big bwuthor! I'm cold too!" she cried out, tears pouring from her dead eyes.

"Nina...," the whisper departed Ed's lips, his face almost turning the same shade of sickly pale white that hers was. Numbness slowly seeped through his nerves, the energy and agility that had just fused through his veins disappearing as though it were never there.

"Pwease! Edword, he's going to get me! Daddy's going to get me!" she screamed, speeding up considerably, now suddenly at his feet, though any sign of fear on the little girl's face was gone; it was replaced with a bitter hatred Edward had only seen in one other person. "I hate you! I hate you, wittle big bwuthor! You pwomised you'd come back and pway with me! You pwomised, but you lied! You lied to me!"

He wasn't prepared for the blow she gave to his leg, it sending him instantly to the floor. He glanced down at the limb that was now in pieces in front of him, his brow arching in confusion and fear.

"You let me die, Edword. You let me die." Her voice was now a contained whisper, echoing with pain and lost innocence.

The thirteen year old let the words stun him. Hell, he even let them burrow underneath his skin because he knew what had to be done, but he couldn't do it without a little self-punishment first. It was only fair.

"I'm sorry, Nina," he whispered back, his voice trembling on the edge of agony. Blinking away unwanted tears, he clapped his hands, setting them on Nina's unimaginably cold skin. Closing his eyes, he felt the splatters of crimson hit his face, but he held back, not giving into the pity or pain that he so badly wanted to feel.

He understood now.

_There's just no way she could've lived like that...It was the only way..._

"Brother."

The faint voice forced him to look up, though he didn't see anything at first, just continuous darkness.

"Brother!"

It was louder this time, he was sure of it. Shakily, he stood to his feet, ignoring the fact that his left leg was completely useless. Limping heavily, he went forward, unsure of exactly where Al's voice was coming from. Either way, he had to find it.

"Brother! Ed!"

It sounded much more pleading this time, a far cry from the whisper he'd originally heard. Something was wrong—he had to get there.

"I'm coming, Al. Give me a minute," the murmur parted his lips, determination more than evident. It grew louder in his ears, giving him the motivation he needed to move.

Before he knew it, the blanket of darkness was dissolving, a faint light brightening before his eyes.

_It's over..._

"Edward..."

The voice was deathly quiet, but it caught his hearing, and it wasn't coming from the same place Al's was.

Ed turned quickly, his golden orbs catching a glimpse of a warm smile and vibrant green eyes; and there was only one person he knew that ever looked at him like that.

"I love you...my little man."

"Mom?"

&&&&&

He awoke with a start, sitting straight up in the bed he'd been comatose in for over six months. Wide, golden orbs frantically searched the too white and dull looking room, trying to process information that he was incapable of understanding at the moment. Breath was leaving his lungs a mile a minute, temporarily forcing the thirteen year old into a fit of wheezing.

"Brother!" Al's over-joyous voice belted through his ear drums, the eleven year old sounding to be almost to the point of hysteria. "Brother, you're alive! He's alive!" the shouts and cried continued to come, taking Ed a minute to realize that Alphonse had his metallic arms wrapped fairly tightly around his bony shoulders.

"Hey, Al," he choked out, thankful when the grip was gradually released. "Long time no see?" the thirteen year old questioned with a raised eyebrow, lowering himself back down to the pillows.

"It's been six months, Ed!" the eleven year old scolded, his soul-filled eyes glimmering in the din of the room, making Ed's heart sink as his brother's words filtered through his brain. "I thought...I almost thought—that you weren't going to...you know." It was too difficult for the kid to say the truth. He didn't even want to think about it anymore.

"I'd never leave you, Al, you know that," Edward chided, his voice lower than its usual volume, due to not using it for the past half year.

He was paler and thinner than Al would have liked, but he was alive, and that was all that truly mattered. The eleven year old alchemist couldn't help but stare at the brother he thought he'd lost, almost used to staring at the motionless blonde.

"You really had me scared, Ed. I mean that." And the thirteen year old could tell too, by the honesty and sincereness in his little brother's tone, which inwardly made him feel even more guilty. He'd made it through hellfire and brimstone with Lydia LaShea and sadly even the ghost of Nina Tucker. But the one thing he couldn't forgive himself for or forget was the fact that his little brother was still trapped in a hallow suit of armor, and he still hadn't succeeded in changing that.

Not yet anyway.

"I think you even had Colonel Mustang scared," Al continued, glancing over at the other side of the bed, only to find it empty. "Hey, where'd he go?" the younger alchemist asked, more to himself than Ed.

"Where'd _who_ go, Al?" the blonde asked, sitting up slightly when the thought of someone else being in the room made its way to his consciousness. He immediately backed down when he felt Al's gauntlet gently push him back down.

"No one," Alphonse lied, knowing that just minutes before, Mustang had just been standing there across from him. He quickly changed the subject, hoping Ed's temporary forgetfulness would kick in. "What's...the last thing you remember?"

Somehow, Edward knew he was going to be asked that question, sooner or later. Those memories had been buried in his subconscious since he'd went into a coma, and now that they were slowly coming back into form, he wasn't so sure he wanted to discuss them; for his benefit let alone his brother's.

"We were on out way to Renégauld, and the weather was starting to get pretty bad. That's about it." He was lying and he knew it, but he knew that if he told the truth, whatever pent up guilt Alphonse was hiding meticulously within that shell would grow, forcing a wedge between them that he didn't want to take a chance of.

"That's it? Nothing else?" the eleven year old prodded, searching his older brother's face as the thirteen year old shook his head, looking up into Al's soul-filled eyes.

"Nope, that's it. I guess whatever happened there is the reason I wound up in here, isn't it?" Ed inquired, silently noting that his automail had been fixed.

_Oh, great. I'm definitely going to hear it from Winry the next time I talk to her..._

Alphonse hesitated in answering, reluctant to tell Edward the truth. "It-it turns out that there was some sort of toxic gas released into the air there some time ago, and it winded up killing all of the townspeople." He paused for a moment, seeing the lines of wonderment and confusion crease on his brother's forehead before he continued. "But before they died, they supposedly had severe hallucinations, making the whole situation even worse. And...I think you had them too." His helmet drifted towards the floor for a moment, recalling the shear terror on Ed's face when he found him on that day a little more than six months before.

"It was horrible, Brother." The younger boy's voice had dropped to a shaking whisper, not liking the images that were passing through him. "You were so scared. And...you said that you saw Nina and she was going to get me. You told me to run, but I didn't. The next thing I knew, you had passed out and I couldn't wake you up. If it wasn't for Colonel Mustang and the others...I honestly don't know what would've happened."

For the first time in his thirteen years, Edward was speechless, completely taken aback by the emotions that were emanating from the empty shell of armor where his little brother's soul resided. He could feel tears threatening to rain down his cheeks, but held them back. He had to be strong; for Al. That's the way it was going to have to be from now on. After all, he was the older brother, even if it didn't seem like it the vast majority of the time.

"Al," he tried, his voice lower than a whisper. Clearing his throat, he attempted to speak again. "Al, no matter what happens, I'm never going to leave you. You've got to remember that." The thirteen year old State Alchemist was fighting to keep his voice restrained, though the harder he struggled, the more it shook. "I didn't mean to—"

"Brother, _don't_," the eleven year old interjected, placing a gentle gauntlet on Edward's shoulder. "You don't have to apologize. It's not your fault. Besides, neither of us could have known what was going to happen. You _know_ that." He was trying to be as firm as possible, but the fear of losing his older brother was still clearly evident when he spoke.

"But see, that's the thing, Al. That voice you heard the night we tried to bring back Mom—I heard it that day. Something was telling me we shouldn't have went, but we did anyway." He paused for a moment, staring up in the soul-filled eyes that were filled with more warmth than any other person he knew, only tying with his mother's. "I guess I'm just prone to making stupid mistakes, huh? I bet I really pissed Mustang off." He couldn't help but give a tiny smile to the last bit, unable to hide the minute amount of satisfaction that was underlying in the back of his head.

"You were just doing what you thought was right. Even if you did kind of take it a little too far. Your intentions are good, Ed. You just never consider the consequences of your actions," Alphonse conceded, only to earn a slightly noticeable scowl from his older brother.

"I didn't sleep for six months just to wake up to a lecture, _Colonel_," he chided playfully, trying once again to sit up.

"Sorry, Brother, but you've got to learn it sooner or later. If you don't, who knows what could happen?" Al responded, carefully pushing the thirteen year old back to the apparently uncomfortable hospital pillows. "So...are you hungry?" The reluctance was more than obvious in his tone, but then again, how long had it been since Ed had eaten? Voluntarily, that is.

"Yeah." His voice was soft, much softer than Alphonse had anticipated.

There was a long silence between them that lasted until the younger of the two broke it, easing through it as politely as possible. "Ed, I'm going to ask you something, and I want you to be completely honest with me. And _don't_ try to avoid the subject," he added seriously, pointing an accusing digit at innocent golden orbs. "Why-Why did you stop eating?" He kept going, not wanting to hear Ed's answer quite yet. "I sat here, staring at you for six months, and that was one of the only things that I could think about. What could possibly have been the reason for you to do that to yourself? And to this day, I still don't understand."

The now vibrant golden orbs immediately steered clear of the soul-filled ones, their gaze falling off to the side of his younger brother, unable to meet them at the moment.

"It was because you couldn't," Edward muttered, far too low for Al to hear it, causing the younger one to ask the thirteen year old to repeat it. "I said it was because you couldn't." Edward's words were much louder this time, seemingly echoing in the small space of the room, but they were effective nonetheless.

"But Ed—I mean, I haven't exactly been able to eat for three years now, so what made you decide that after all that time?" Alphonse was obviously confused, but quite interested to see what Ed's response would be.

"I-I just started to feel guilty about it, I guess. That, along with what happened to Nina... It just sort of all added up, you know? I'm sorry, Al." Watery, golden orbs finally met shimmering soul-filled ones, letting silence take over the room once again.

Without a word, Alphonse leaned over again, placing his steel arms around Ed; and for once, the thirteen year old didn't complain, no matter how cold the metallic body was. After all, steel or no steel, he was still his little brother, and nothing would ever change that.

_**Two months later...**_

Heavy-booted footsteps made their way down the long hall, echoing off the walls as they continued to proceed towards their intended destination. They could almost be described as precise, almost unheard of by their originator. Although, there was a slight difference between the left and the right, the right still not quite used to functioning yet, but it was getting there.

Red material swung back and forth against the black boots, evidence that the thirteen year old's growth spurt still hadn't come to pass. But that wasn't his main focus at the moment, not yet at least. He had other intentions for now.

The footfalls stopped abruptly, obviously hesitant to enter through the doors they were now paused at.

Golden bangs fell in front of a face that was still lacking in color but appeared much healthier than it had in the previous months, a relief to more than one concerned person. The blonde strands moved slightly as a sigh blew through them, filtering them ever so gently.

"You've got to do this. Don't chicken out now," the thirteen year old whispered to himself, his eyebrows frowning in frustration. "It's been long enough."

Clenching his jaw, he pushed open the door, preparing himself for the man that was waiting for him behind the too large mahogany desk, paperwork a plenty. Glancing up, he saw the Colonel was busy at work on probably nothing, his hand absentmindedly signing away on things he garnered no interest in whatsoever.

_Great, he was expecting me. Here goes nothing. _

Taking in a deep breath, he moved forward and stood in front of the desk, silently waiting for Mustang to acknowledge his presence, which he had yet to do.

After a few minutes of silence had passed, Edward had had enough.

He slammed his gloved hands down on top of the wood, sending papers flying every which way, and not even giving a damn about it.

"I'm ready," he stated through carefully grit teeth, his golden eyes burning into the crown of Mustang's carefully bowed head, still pretending to be interested in the papers below him.

Seconds passed before the man set down his pen, his gaze slowly meeting Ed's.

"Well, congratulations, Full Metal. I see that you were able to make it in here all by yourself. That must have been quite a feat," he stated, sarcasm dripping thickly from his tone, though there was some other emotion hiding remotely behind his eyes.

"I'm ready to go back out, Colonel. I've been out of the hospital for over a month now. I've completed the cases that you've assigned me, and I think I'm ready—"

"Think?" Mustang questioned inquisitively, leaning somewhat back in the chair, his hands folding in his lap.

"No, I know I'm ready. I've been ready." His voice was steady as he stood up straight, standing as tall as he possibly could, even if it was just under five feet.

"So, what you're telling me is that I should give you a second chance, even though you defied my orders, ran away, almost got you and your brother killed, and made me and my subordinates risk our jobs and ranks as officers, just to save you. Have I missed anything?" He folded his arms, waiting for the thirteen year old to break.

Guilt crept slowly across the teenager's face, but he quickly shunned it away, not yet deterred.

"I was this close—" he gestured with his thumb and index finger, "to getting somewhere on the Philosopher's Stone, and I'm not going to let a ghost town or anything else get in my way. I fully understand the consequences of my actions, but I think—no, I know I deserve a second chance."

"You do also understand that you're still contracted to the State and shall go wherever it is that you're needed. Correct?" The trademark smirk was slowly slipping across the man's visage, taking pleasure in watching the boy squirm.

With an inevitable roll of the eyes, Edward responded with a breathless, "Yes."

"And you also recall that the terms and conditions that we made states that you are to put the State above all other things, and that the Stone is a secondary priority." With anyone else, it would have been a query, but in Mustang's case, it was a definite statement.

"Yes, I do," Ed replied grudgingly, jaw clenched in absolute annoyance at the Colonel's ability to give him the runaround.

The smirk grew wider as the onyx eyed man reached into the still standing mounds of paperwork and pulled out a yellow case file, sliding it in Edward's direction.

"There have been sightings and confirmed reports of wild chimeras in a town east of here called Knotsford. There have been no reported deaths or physical contact with civilians, but the town is in an uproar, no less." He paused, taking in the sight of silent victory that was flooding across the younger alchemist's features. "You are to report to me as soon as you arrive, and I expect one each day until this is settled."

Edward grabbed the file without a second thought, his golden eyes lit with the very fire that had almost been extinguished in Renégauld.

"You're train leaves first thing tomorrow morning, and I've arranged for Hughes to escort you to the station."

"Thank you, Colonel." The words were hard to force out but they were at least sincere. Hell, the teen almost looked on the verge of tears before the man went back to the paperwork that was still awaiting his autographs.

Edward turned slowly, silently making his way to the door, inwardly exited at the next chance to find the Stone. Of course, after he settled the whole chimera thing and all.

"Oh, and Full Metal?" The question drifted through the air, hitting the blonde directly in the back of the head. Just the sound of it made him stop dead in his tracks.

"Don't get yourself killed. The last thing I need is a mark on my record for your ignorance."

The remark normally would have sent the boy into a frenzy, but he decided to let it go today. He had to get ready for the next crazy adventure he and Alphonse were about to go on.

**Epilogue **

He felt like he hadn't seen the sun in ages, with all the snow and rain they'd had for the past few months, but today, it was shining brightly in the clear blue sky. A perfect day, to say the least.

"Think you're up for this, Al?" Ed's voice streamed through the air, only Alphonse hearing the slight tinge of over-confidence it contained.

"The question is, are you, Brother?" the twelve year old's voice queried, taking in the sight of the train station up ahead.

"Of course, I am. Did you really have to ask?" the State Alchemist scoffed, his golden eyes shining in the sun's rays, appearing even brighter than what they were. "I've been ready since I got out of that stupid hospital. I just didn't realized it would take so long to use this thing again," he said, gesturing to his right leg.

"That's what happens when you don't use it for half a year, Ed. You can't just wake up from a coma and go running all around the place. Things like that take time. You of all people should know that," the boy laughed, earning a scowl from the older boy which only made him laugh harder.

"He's right though, Ed," Hughes cut in, slipping his hands into pockets as they neared the station. "But I must say, your progress was faster than half those men in there. The doctors were nothing short of amazed, to say the least."

"Well, I couldn't have done anything without all of you there. By the way, do you think you could tell Hawkeye and everyone else I said thanks? I appreciate everything they've done, while I was in there. If you guys hadn't taken care of Al, who knows what kind of trouble he could've gotten himself into?" Of course he was joking, but he still received an offended, "Hey!" from the twelve year old.

"I will. Oh, and don't forget to use what I got you. Somehow, I have a feeling it'll come in pretty handy. Especially where you two are going," Maes stated as they entered Central's train station.

"Um, what exactly did you get me?" Ed asked, obviously puzzled.

"Uh, oops," Al mumbled sheepishly, taking out the small box Hughes had given him on Edward's birthday some two months before. If metal could blush, it would have been doing so right then and there. "Here you go," he said, his voice high and rushed as he handed Ed the box.

Edward took it and slowly unwrapped it. He couldn't help but smile as he pulled out a small, silver compass, almost the size of his pocket watch.

"Thanks, Hughes." His tone was sincere, the grin that was spreading across his lips actually meeting his eyes for once.

"You're welcome," Maes returned, a crooked smile tugging up the corners of his mouth as well. "Well, I guess you two better get going, before you miss the train. Be careful. I don't want to have to come on a search party for you two again. Once was enough," he joked, getting a few laughs out of the brothers.

"We will," Alphonse reassured, waving as he walked up the train's steps, careful to duck before he entered the car.

"Yeah, no more ghost towns," Ed played it off, visions of that day still haunting his thoughts. He paused on the last step, remembering something he's almost completely forgotten about. He turned to Hughes, holding on as the train started to roll along the tracks. "Tell Mr. God complex to talk to Rian!" he shouted over the hustle and bustle to an instantly confused Hughes. "Tell him that he misses him, and it's not too late!" With a wink, the teen boarded the train, leaving a bewildered Maes on the platform.

&&&&&

"What was that all about?" Al asked as Ed sat down across from him, the discomfort of the seat automatically showcasing itself on his boyish visage.

"Nothing, really," the thirteen year old lied with a slight smile, taking off his coat and setting it down next to him. He leaned back in the seat, trying to get as comfortable as possible, but the feat was proving to be fruitless at the moment.

A lasting silence drifted between them. It was somewhat peaceful, but somehow Alphonse knew that words were supposed to be filling that space. He glanced out the window before his gaze rested on Ed, studying the teenager who sat before him. The color had found its way back to his hair as well as in his eyes, and the act of over-confidence had made its way back to him as well, personality-wise. He was still a bit thin, but nothing like he had been when he'd entered the hospital.

_He's getting better, and that's all that matters. _

But there was also a difference in him that Al just couldn't pinpoint. It was subtle, quietly laying dormant within his soul perhaps, but probably nothing to worry about.

"Brother?" Al's voice drifted through the silence, his soul-filled gaze never once faltering.

"Yeah?" the reply distant reply came, the thirteen year old's mind obviously in another place at the moment.

"While you were—while you were in the coma...do you remember anything, you know, that happened during it?" The voice that emanated from the metallic suit was anything but sure, but he asked the question anyway, too curious to let go of what had been in his thoughts for the past two months.

A tiny, yet barely noticeable smile crept across Ed's lips as his glance fell from the window to his little brother's soul-filled orbs, then back to the blue skies that painted the outside of the glass. With the slightest hint of hesitation, he opened his mouth, the words starting to flow.

"I was ten again, Al." He paused for a moment, almost wanting to keep everything to himself, but all the while knowing it would be too selfish. "Basically, you could say I relived the past. Pretty strange, huh?" he said, showcasing the faintest glimpse of a smile again, golden strands falling in his face.

"Was anything different?" the twelve year old queried, his body clanking as he leaned forward a bit, hanging on every word that parted his older brother's lips, as though it were story time and they were little kids again.

"To be honest, not really. Everything was almost exactly the same as back then, only this time, I think I appreciated Mom more." His voice softened ever so slightly at the mention of their mother, but he continued nonetheless. "It was nice, to see the two of you like that again. Just...to be together."

Alphonse was quiet for a moment; and if Ed didn't know any better, the twelve year old alchemist almost seemed upset in a way, instantly making the blonde concerned.

"Al, hey, what's wrong?" he asked, tilting his head to the side to stare up at the solitary suit of armor whose helmet was hung, shadowing his soul-filled eyes.

"Do you—do you wish that you never would have come back?" His voice grew a tinge higher with each word, almost breaking in two as he got to the end of his question.

"Of course not, Al! Are you kidding me?" he asked jokingly, trying to earn something that even remotely resembled a laugh emanate from the armor. "That place I went to—it wasn't real. It was just a living memory. And no matter how much I liked it at first...things still happened like they did before. Mom still died, and we still went through the with the transmutation. And there's nothing I could've done there to change any of that. What was going to happen was going to happen. And I'm just thankful that I _did_ wind up back here."

"I am too." His voice was soft but audible, showing at least some sign of cheering up.

"Besides, if I hadn't, they'd probably be using you as a spare trash can in Mustang's office." He couldn't help but laugh at the thought, and just hearing his little brother sound offended then break into a fit of laughter didn't hurt either.

Things were normal again.

Well, as normal as they could be with those two.

_**FIN**_


End file.
